


Those Three Words

by azriona



Series: The Words 'Verse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Omega, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Omegaverse, Slow Burn, Victuuri Week 2017, inconvenient childbirth, no actual childbirth will be described in the telling of this fic, non-graphic lead-up to childbirth, victor breaks the internet, victor breaks the internet TWICE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: Their one night of passion in Sochi left Victor Nikiforov with a bit more of a souvenir than either he or Yuuri Katsuki bargained for. Oops?





	1. Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t planning to write something for victuuri-week… and then I found myself writing it anyway. Oops? I plan to write a chapter that corresponds with every day of the challenge; whether or not I actually manage to get them written and posted on the appropriate days is entirely up to the sleeping patterns of my children. (And yes, I believe in happy endings.)

_He’s not here_.

It’s the first day of the World Figure Skating Championships, and normally Victor would be focused on his upcoming skates.

Instead, the three words keep repeating themselves in his head. He sleepwalks through the check-in process, finds his hotel room, unpacks his things and puts them away, and the whole time, all he can think is:

_He’s not here._

Victor has spent the last three and a half months counting on Yuuri Katsuki being at Worlds. He’s imagined the moment they meet for the second time so many times, with so many variations, that it’s almost as if he’s memorized every possibility.

Every possibility but one – the one in which Yuuri Katsuki doesn’t attend Worlds at all.

_He’s not here._

“Vitya!” barks Yakov. “Are you asleep? It’s time to warm up for your free skate.”

“ _Da_ ,” says Victor, and he glides out onto the ice. His muscles feel heavy, leaden and tired. There’s a tight rock in his chest.

Christophe falls in next to him as they circle the ice. He’s shaking out his limbs.

“All right, Victor?” says Christophe, and if anyone skating nearby hears him, they’d think it was just idle chit-chat from the casual tone.

But Victor’s spent the last two months on the phone with Chris, and there’s as much backstory loaded in those three words as there are the three words that run circles in Victor’s head.

 _He’s not here_.

_He doesn’t know…._

Victor quashes the thought.

“All right,” says Victor, and skates faster.

He can’t skate away from his problems, of course not.

But he can at least skate away from remembering them for a while.

*

Four months earlier, in Sochi:

_Their huffs are loud against each other’s ears; Victor’s hair brushes soft against Yuuri’s skin. It ought to smell like coconut or ice or winter mornings; instead it smells like salt and sex and skin, and Yuuri groans as he moves above Victor. There’s a pounding in the back of Victor’s head, but he can ignore that for now, and his mouth is dry until he twists until he can see Yuuri’s face, open and desperate._

_“Kiss me,” gasps Victor, and Yuuri does._

_Kissing Yuuri is like drinking cold water straight from a stream, and Victor wants to drown._

*

Victor’s phone goes off around 5 in the morning. It’s still dark outside, and Victor’s head hurts, but since most of him is sore, he’s willing to overlook that for the time being.

“Yakov?” he says, answering the phone.

“ _Vitya! You’re late, the plane leaves in an hour and you’re holding everyone up_!”

Victor pulls the phone away from his ear, double checks the time, and groans. “Sorry, I’m on my way,” he says, and hangs up while Yakov continues screaming.

He turns over in the bed, and stares at the man sleeping on the other side of it.

Yuuri Katsuki, the Japanese skater who came in last. Who flubbed most of his jumps, who according to Yura was sobbing in the bathroom afterwards. Who danced like a wild man, who argued about philosophy and the nature of love with Cao Bin and Michele Crispino, who let Victor into his hotel room afterwards, because Victor had visions of Yuuri, suddenly maudlin, throwing himself into the Black Sea.

Yuuri, who danced like it was his last night on earth. Yuuri, who had injected more life into a staid Grand Prix banquet than Victor could remember having ever seen before.

Yuuri had grabbed Victor’s tie, and pulled him into his hotel room. Victor hadn’t protested. He’d been more than happy to follow. And he’d been rewarded with Yuuri, eyes flashing and determined, kissing him and speaking in Japanese, which was a much bigger turn-on than Victor would have imagined.

 _Mine, mine, mine_ , Yuuri seemed to have been saying, and if they’d giggled and poked at each other’s stomachs in between kisses and caresses, then that was okay, too. Yuuri’s initial release of tension and general euphoria turned into something much silkier and smoother in the bedroom – a sort of confidence he didn’t show on the ice, and the intensity of his gaze on Victor had melted away every last defense he might have had against the smaller, younger man.

Had someone told Victor during the free skate that Yuuri was an alpha, he would never have believed it. There is no doubt, though – he believes it now. He feels the same sort of languid pleasure that he normally feels after a night of sex, and the dampness between his thighs is evidence of how he’s spent the last few hours.

Yuuri’s drooling a little bit on the pillow, but it doesn’t look like the phone call has disturbed his sleep any. Victor can’t help but reach over and touch the hand that is lying on the bed between them.

“Hey,” he whispers, and Yuuri’s eyes flutter open briefly. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” slurs Yuuri, and yawns, and then frowns at his pillow, flipping it over to the drier side. He blinks at Victor, as if trying to focus, and looks so adorably confused for a moment that Victor reaches over to brush his hair away from his forehead.

“I’ll see you at Worlds, right?” says Victor, wondering why he’s so reluctant to go. Yakov is no doubt pacing downstairs. Or even banging away at Victor’s door, three floors away.

And wouldn’t _that_ be fun, letting his coach observe his walk of shame.

“Yeah,” says Yuuri, and there’s a contented sort of smile on his face now. “I’ll see you at Worlds.”

Victor hesitates for a moment, and then gives in to his impulse. It’s never steered him wrong before, at least.

He leans forward, and kisses Yuuri. Their mouths taste terrible, but Yuuri reaches up into the kiss, or at least he does at first, before pulling away with a pop. He’s back to looking a little confused again, and it’s just too cute.

It’s almost enough to make Victor forget about Yakov, plane reservations, and the world in general.

“Worlds,” promises Victor, because he really _does_ have to get out of the bed and go home, although for the life of him he can’t remember _why_.

Stupid terrible omega memory.

“Worlds,” agrees Yuuri, already half asleep, even if he’s still confused.

And there Victor goes, wanting to kiss him again.

He leaves before he can give into the impulse.

*

It’s only on the plane that he realizes he should have given Yuuri his phone number. Or demanded Yuuri’s number from him.

 _Ah well,_ thinks Victor. _I’m sure he’ll figure out how to find me. That must be what I’m forgetting._

He falls asleep, holding his phone. Which would be fine, except that he drops it halfway through the flight, and his thumb swipes away the flashing alert from his omega cycle calendar before he can see it.

*

It’s two weeks later during Russian Nationals when he realizes, and the only reason he realizes is because he overhears the conversation in the omega locker room.

“Jenya, you _have_ to take your blockers, you can’t go out on the ice smelling like that!”

“I don’t _want_ to take them,” sulks the teenager. “They make my head fuzzy, I come out of my spins looking like a demented cow.”

“And if you _don’t_ take them, you’ll come out of your spins with half a dozen alphas waiting to carry you off to the nearest bedroom,” snaps the coach. “Consider yourself lucky that you’re not _actually_ in heat, you wouldn’t be able to compete at all. Do you think Victor Nikiforov ignores his blockers? Of course not! He’s a professional and he’s learned to work through them.”

“He’s so old he probably doesn’t even _have_ heats anymore,” says the teenager, and there’s a sharp slap, skin against skin. “Oh!”

“Little fool,” scoffs the coach. “You want to get pregnant with some random audience member’s baby and end your career just because you’re afraid to be dizzy? Fine. I’ll invite them in here to give you a good scenting.”

“No, no, fine,” says Jenya quickly. “I’ll take it. Please, Maria, I’m sorry. Please.”

Victor’s breaths are steady, but his heart pounds. He pulls out his phone with shaking hands and opens his cycle app.

There’s an alert there that he’s never bothered to check.

_Your next heat is due: December 10. Projected Length of Cycle: 4 days._

December 10 – the day after the Grand Prix banquet. And now he remembers: he’d meant to go back to Saint Petersburg and straight to his apartment, lock the doors and ride out his heat surrounded by familiar scents, safe in the knowledge that the week’s worth of blockers he’d taken in Sochi would dampen his scents.

But that’s not the worst of it, or what is making his head spin and his heart pound. It’s two weeks after his heat cycle – his _missed_ heat cycle, because he definitely didn’t spend that weekend going through the throes of estrus – and in the aftermath of a normal cycle, he’d be menstruating right now. He should be experiencing cramps, an insatiable need for Cadbury’s fruit-and-nut bars, and an incredibly grouchy disposition.

He’s not feeling any of that, though. A bit tired. A bit restless. More than a little hungry for chicken and yoghurt and apples, which is strange, because normally he hates apples in anything but cake.

“I don’t want to be pregnant until I’ve won at least five world championships,” says Jenya the teenager. “If Victor Nikiforov can do it, so can I.”

“That’s my girl,” says Maria the coach, sounding much more sympathetic and kind. “I promise, someday, you’ll have as many gold medals as Victor Nikiforov, and a wonderful alpha to share your estrus. And all the babies you can handle.”

“Two,” says Jenya, and they leave the locker room, never realizing that Victor is quietly hyperventilating behind them.

*

Somehow, he wins gold at Russian Nationals. He doesn’t remember a single minute of it. He’s too lost in the fog of realization.

Yakov notices, and thank God doesn’t say anything except through incredibly expressive scowling. Georgi notices, and hovers a bit more than usual.

“I could run to the pharmacy, if you need anything,” he offers.

Victor’s eyes light up. _The pharmacy. They’ll have tests. I could…_

_No. I can’t ask Georgi to buy me one of those. Everyone would notice. Everyone would start talking. Anya would kill him._

“I’m fine, thank you,” says Victor, but he’s already planning.

_A test. I need to take a test. I need to be sure, before I…_

_Do…_

_Call…_

_Um…._

_Something?_

*

The problem with being Victor Nikiforov, the world’s greatest omega male figure skater, is that he can’t exactly wander into the local pharmacy and expect anything he purchases to go under the radar.

In a perfect world, he’d tell Yuuri. But in a perfect world, Yuuri would have found a way to contact him, and after a brief search online, Victor discovers that Yuuri Katsuki has such a minimal online presence, he might as well not exist. The only way Victor’s sure he _does_ exist is his entry on the Japanese Skating Federation’s website, where there’s a terrible mug shot of Yuuri, and a far-too-brief biography that doesn’t actually tell Victor anything useful.

The next best option doesn’t become available until he’s at the European Championships in Geneva.

Christophe takes the request in stride – and to Victor’s everlasting gratitude, doesn’t even question it. “All right. Give me thirty minutes.”

Victor gives him forty-five, and when Christophe arrives at his hotel room, he hands over the plain brown-paper bag containing a single box.

“Just one?” asks Victor, turning the box over until he finds the instructions. “I thought people generally bought three or four in case the first one is a dud.”

“This is a good one,” says Christophe, and Victor decides he doesn’t want to know how Christophe knows that.

Anyway, it comes up as expected. Victor and Christophe sit next to the tub in the bathroom, staring at the stick in varying amounts of shock.

“So,” starts Chris, and then doesn’t say anything else.

“Yes,” says Victor. It’s not as if it needs to be said. Christophe was there, Christophe danced with Yuuri too, if not quite the same dancing that Victor himself did later that evening.

Victor drops his head and covers his face with his hands. “I am so, so fucked.”

“You have to tell him,” says Chris.

“Yakov?” It’s much easier to be willfully ignorant sometimes, and Victor is going to cling to willful ignorance as hard as he can.

“No. Not Yakov.”

Victor takes a breath. “At Worlds. I’ll see him at Worlds.”

“I meant before that.”

It takes a few goes before Victor can swallow. “I… haven’t heard from him.”

“You could contact him yourself.”

Victor shakes his head.

“Victor—"

“I looked him up,” he admits. “The JSF page – it lists him going to a university in Japan, but he’s not enrolled there. I don’t know where he is. Maybe I dreamed him.”

“I kind of think there’s evidence you didn’t,” says Christophe, pointing at the test on the counter.

Victor nods his head, and can’t speak for a moment.

“It’s,” he starts to say, and then shakes his head and tries again. “I only met him the once. I don’t even know him that well. Maybe… this is for the best?”

Chris frowns. “You only met him once? He’s been on the Senior circuit for at least four years.”

“What?” Victor turns and stares at Chris. “You know him?”

“We skated in Juniors together, of course I know him. He’s quiet most of the time, fairly reserved. I’m not sure what got into him at the banquet. As for whether or not you’re better off – if you’d asked me a year ago, I probably would agree. But, Victor? Except for when he’s skating well, the happiest I’ve ever seen him was when he was dancing with you.”

Victor closes his eyes, and rides the sudden wave of emotion that courses through him. He feels like he’s expanding, becoming lighter than air…

Or like he might be sick to his stomach. It’s kind of a toss-up.

“Can you reach him?”

Chris is quiet. Victor opens his eyes and sees him scrolling through the contacts on his phone.

“ _Merde_ ,” he says finally. “No. His number must have been one of the casualties when my phone crashed a few months ago. I’m sorry.”

Victor breathes a few times. It helps with the odd feeling in his chest.

“I’ll see him at Worlds,” says Victor. “That was the last thing we said to each other. _See you at Worlds_. I’ll tell him then.”

“Okay,” says Chris gently, and takes Victor’s hand.

Chris’s fingers are fantastically hot. Victor squeezes them as tightly as he dares.

*

 _He’s not here_.

Yuuri isn’t at Worlds.

It’s only after Victor realizes this that he goes back and looks at the results from the Japanese Nationals.

 _They were the same time as mine_. _No wonder I wasn’t paying attention._

_And… he didn’t even get on the podium. Just when I realized how badly I’d need to see him at Worlds… he lost the chance to go._

*

He skates. Of course he skates, it’s what Victor Nikiforov does best.

And somehow… skating _Stammi_ has never felt so… _real_.

_Are you out there, Yuuri? Are you watching me right now?_

_Do you realize I’m calling out to you? Are you listening?_

In his daydream as he skates, he imagines Yuuri waiting for him when he’s done. Standing at the boards, smiling, arms outstretched.

He’s not there.

*

Victor has to force the smile as he holds up his medal. The cameras flash and click around them. He can’t see a thing.

 _I haven’t been abandoned_ , Victor tells himself as he, Christophe, and Otabek head for the press junket. _It’s not like he could have been here, and decided not to show. He just didn’t qualify._

_He could have contacted me, though. I’m not that hard to find._

_Maybe… maybe it didn’t mean all that much to him. And it’s not like he realizes…._

“Victor!” shouts a reporter, and Victor shakes himself out of his thoughts to realize they’ve arrived at the press conference. “Any thought about what you’re going to skate next year?”

_Next year…._

_I can’t skate next year! I’m going to be a…._

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” says Victor, which has the benefit of being true, as well as the only truth that the press will accept.

_I only thought as far as this competition. And now that it’s over, and Yuuri wasn’t here… I’m not sure what to do next._

*

Victor has the brief, insane thought before boarding the plane that will take him away from Worlds and back to Saint Petersburg that he should skip the flight entirely and just go looking for Yuuri. He’s somewhere in Japan, and so is Victor, and this is the closest they’ve been and it won’t take much to find him, Japan’s miniscule compared to the vastness of Russia. Besides, it’s not as if Japan boasts that many world-class figure skaters, or Yuuri wouldn’t have been the only one listed on their website for men’s singles skaters. Someone must know where he is. It’s not as if Victor dreamed him up.

Chris is right: Victor has proof that Yuuri existed for at least one night.

There’s a flutter in his stomach. It’s not anything, he knows that. But….

In the end, Victor boards the plane. It’s sleepwalking, more than anything; Yakov’s hand on his elbow, guiding him to his seat.

“I know your mind is elsewhere,” says Yakov, when they’re somewhere three thousand miles above anywhere. “There is something you’re not telling me.”

“Sorry,” says Victor absently. He’s waiting for the flutter again. It doesn’t come.

“We should think about it, though,” continues Yakov. “Your programs for next year.”

“You think about them,” says Victor, and lowers his seat to go to sleep.

*

A week later, the video of Yuuri Katsuki skating _Stammi_ goes viral.

Victor covers his mouth with his fingers and watches.

He watches again, and again, and again, and it’s still playing when he switches to a different screen and purchases his ticket back to Japan.

*

He’ll tell him. Of course he’ll tell him. Maybe not _immediately_ , though. It’s a very large thing to spring on a person when one hasn’t seen them for four months.

And it’s not as if anyone could possibly _tell_ just by looking. No one in the onsen’s locker room looked startled when he undressed, nor did their gaze linger too long on any part of his anatomy.

The hot baths are wonderful, and if Victor had any worries about whether or not he should be using them at all in his condition, the hot water washes them away. He rests back against the rocks, and lets his mind drift back to the last time he saw Yuuri.

 _Be my coach, Victor,_ Yuuri had said. So comfortable against Victor’s skin, smelling so good – spicy and dangerous and exciting, and Victor had sucked in the alpha scent of him, feeling every nerve in his body wake up, as if he’d been asleep for far too long.

 _Be my coach_.

Which is perhaps why, when Yuuri bursts in on him, gasping and staring and wearing a ridiculously oversized brown coat, Victor says the first thing that pops into his head, and not the words he’d intended to say all along.

_Yuuri, I’m pregnant. And it’s yours._

“Hello, Yuuri! I’m here to be your coach!”


	2. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Two's Yuuri prompt: Reunion. (Also, I have tomorrow's chapter written and I'm halfway through Day Four's, so things are good on my end. Thank the toddler for his 3-hour nap this afternoon.) Feel free to yell at me in the comments, capslock commenting makes my day.

The way Victor sees it, acting as Yuuri’s coach is as good a reason as any for why he’s in Hasetsu. After all, it had been Yuuri’s idea in the first place. Victor wasn’t going to quit in the middle of the season, who does that, honestly? It only made sense that he would wait until the season was over before venturing on a new career path. It’s an entirely sensible plan, and Victor’s very impressed with himself for thinking of it so quickly.

Really, though, he’s not thinking very hard about anything that does not involve the deliciousness being provided by Mama Katsuki and her glorious, glorious kitchen.

“Katsudon is my favorite dish,” says Yuuri, which is both confirmation that Victor’s once-lover has extremely good taste in food, and that the baby in his belly is Yuuri’s, because this is the first time in four months that he’s been able to stomach anything that isn’t a Cadbury fruit-and-nut bar or an apple.

Victor is so, _so_ sick of apples. And, to his regret, Cadbury fruit-and-nut bars.

“Soooooo,” says Yuuri’s ballet coach – what was her name? Minako. She reminds Victor of Yakov’s ex-wife, particularly with the pointed stare she’s giving to him. “You’re… retiring.”

“Yes!” says Victor brightly, spearing another piece of fried pork with his chopsticks. “Retiring! For now, anyway, I can always reassess after Yuuri wins the Grand Prix.”

“You keep _saying_ that,” says Yuuri nervously. Yuuri’s shyness is adorable, but only because Victor has seen Yuuri nearly naked and wrapped around a pole in front of several dozen people in suits and ties. “I completely flubbed my programs last year – I didn’t even get past Nationals! There’s no guarantee they’ll even invite me back.”

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor sings sternly. “You were a Grand Prix finalist last year. Of _course_ they’re going to invite you back.”

Yuuri laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. The lights are shining on his glasses so that Victor can’t see his eyes, but something about the way Yuuri’s face is turned makes Victor think that Yuuri’s not looking at him.

Which is… strange. The Yuuri Victor remembers isn’t shy or nervous or self-deprecating. He’s wild and funny and open and _free_.

This Yuuri, though? He doesn’t seem happy to see Victor at all. In some ways, it’s as if he’s never spent more than a few minutes in Victor’s company. Victor almost wonders if Yuuri has an evil twin.

Victor’s not quite sure what to make of Yuuri. The only thing to do seems to be to ignore Yuuri’s awkwardness in hopes that he’ll eventually drop it entirely.

“Besides, you have me as a coach,” continues Victor. “I’m very well thought of in the figure skating community. They’ll invite you if for no other reason than to check up on me.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” says Yuuri.

“Why you, though?” asks Minako, and she sounds suspicious. “You’ve never coached before. Why not just take him back to Saint Petersburg and let your coach at him?”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide, and he stares at Victor as if he’d been wondering the same thing.

It’s perhaps the worst moment of the entire night. It was _Yuuri’s idea_ , and he’s not even owning up to it. He’s leaving it to Victor to explain – and Yuuri doesn’t even know the truth yet.

_Because in a few months, it’s going to be extremely obvious why I’m not skating next season_ , thinks Victor. _Whereas if I’m here in Hasetsu, no one will know, and the baby will be born before your first competition in the fall. No one ever has to know_.

But what Victor says is:

“And give up katsudon?” Victor clutches the bowl to his chest and lets his eyes go wide. “I only just found him. It. We’ll stay here, for a little while at least. Makkachin is old, you wouldn’t want me to put her back on a plane so quickly?”

_I’ll tell him later,_ Victor promises himself. _When we’re alone._

Minako’s eyes have narrowed, but Yuuri seems to have missed the slip of Victor’s tongue, and then his sister is pulling him out to set up Victor’s room.

Victor waits for Yuuri to say something.

_Oh, no, he’ll be with me._

But Yuuri just goes, with only a small, nervous glance back at Victor, who watches him go.

“Hmm,” says Minako, eyes still narrowed.

Victor glances at her, and feels incredibly exposed. He might not even be _wearing_ the yukata. It feels like she’s looking right down into his stomach, through the uterine lining, and straight to the baby’s undoubtedly blended features.

Victor wonders if Yuuri’s putting on an act for her. Pretending he doesn’t know Victor, in order to protect him from what would undoubtedly be suspicious scrutiny. It’s almost… sweet, really. Very alpha-like, to want to protect Victor particularly when he is at his most fragile and vulnerable, even to the extreme of pretending to have separate rooms.

_All right. I can play that game, too. And we’ll clear it up tonight. It’s going to be fine._

“So,” says Victor, attempting brightness, and he spears a piece of pork and offers it to her. “Katsudon?”

*

Except Victor really does have his own room. And Yuuri closes his bedroom door on him. Victor sits on the bed, one hand in Makkachin’s fur, and one hand gripping the blankets, staring blankly ahead of him.

_Plan B. I need a Plan B._

_I have no idea what Plan B is._

Victor glances around the room, where he is surrounded by boxes, wood-and-paper panels, and the heavy beating of his own heart.

_What happens now?_

“Well,” he says to Makkachin. “I suppose… I coach him.”

*

It’s easier said than done. Yuuri is prickly. When Victor reaches out, Yuuri retracts like a strange sea creature, edging away from the light.

Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s proximity. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe Yuuri knows on an instinctual level the real reason why Victor is in Hasetsu, and is running from it.

Victor can’t help but think it’s the latter. He hasn’t told anyone, but even as Yuuri slims down, Victor is filling out. It could be the bowls of katsudon, or the plates of noodles, or the massive amounts of everything that he’s eating – because Victor can’t stop eating everything Mama Katsudon’s kitchen puts out. He’s making up for lost time over the last four months, and every night when he goes to bed, he feels softer, heavier, more centered. It’s barely been a week, but there’s already a thin layer of fat on Victor’s hips that wasn’t there before.

It’s not the reunion Victor anticipated, and it gets even worse when Yuri Plisetsky shows up.

“Seriously?” scoffs the newly named Yurio, while Yuuri is somewhere helping Mari prepare a room. “Are you such a sad sack that you had to follow a guy halfway across the world when he hasn’t contacted you in four months?”

“He asked,” says Victor, and he rolls over to his stomach, suddenly conscious of the slight bulge there that is only now becoming noticeable. Luckily it’s easily hidden beneath sweatclothes and the yukata, but Victor can already tell that lying on his stomach will quickly be a thing of the past. It’s only comfortable now because of the pillows on the floor, but Yurio doesn’t seem to notice Victor’s agitation as he arranges them around himself.

“And just because he asked, you had to follow.” Yurio leans back and kicks the table idly. “You can’t tell me that Yuuri Katsuki is the best you can do, Nikiforov. You’re the most famous omega in the world. You can have any alpha you wanted.”

“I don’t want any alpha,” says Victor.

_I want Yuuri_.

*

He started choreographing Eros in December. It was more of a dream than anything else. He’d had the music on his shelf for the better part of a year – because what could be more seductive to an audience than an omega skating about sexual love – but hadn’t found the right time to use it.

With the memory of Yuuri’s touch still burning on his skin, it was easy to listen to the music, and put everything he remembered and felt on the ice.

It was February when he started to listen to the other track. He only spent long enough on it to choreograph the basics – it was as if he couldn’t wrap his head around the meaning of it, even as he was surrounded by its reality every day.

Now Victor wonders. Did he realize, even then, that he’d need to choreograph two short programs?

At any rate, it doesn’t matter what Yuuri or Yura think about them. He made up his mind about who would skate which the moment the challenge was issued, and now, he’s going to skate Agape again for the first time in weeks.

_Agape: unconditional love, like a parent’s love, or a child’s._

The last time Victor skated Agape, his pregnancy was an idea more than it was real. It was strange food cravings that had little to do with hunger. It was an odd longing in his bones for a scent he couldn’t quite remember. It was a little blue line on a stick in a hotel room in Geneva.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a baby.

Here, in Hasetsu, with Yuuri watching him, holding his breath; with Victor’s body finally going through the changes the pregnancy is causing; with the music he barely remembers suddenly echoing in the expansive ice rink… Victor hears the song for what might as well be for the first time.

_A parent’s love_.

The idea that Victor could be a parent to anyone – laughable, or so he always thought. But something in the music – or maybe it’s something in him – and the laughter fades away.

_There she is._

He can see the child on the ice in front of him, tripping along in skates that look too big. Chubby little legs that kick out and wiggle, black hair that never lies flat, big blue eyes that fill with tears at a single rebuke, and fill with fire when challenged.

He falls in love with her before the first jump.

Victor might have _known_ he was pregnant. But it’s only on the ice that the idea reforms itself from an idea to a baby.

_She’s my child._

The enormity of the thought – that it’s not just Victor on the ice skating – is almost too much, and Victor finds himself moving to the music in ways he hadn’t planned. The program isn’t just richer and deeper – it’s _his_ , in a way that he thinks Yurio will never quite accomplish.

Victor spins on the ice, the song nearly done. Everything is a blur around him; it’s only sheer luck that Victor isn’t sick to his stomach.

Sheer luck, or Yuuri’s face, the only thing he can focus on in the entire rink.

_She’s our baby._

When he finishes the skate, arms stretched overhead, he thinks it must be obvious.

“I can skate that,” says Yurio, uncaring, remote.

Yuuri says nothing. He waits patiently for Victor to take to the ice again.

*

The following week is a battle in more ways than one, and Victor thinks he might be the only one who sees it. Yurio and Yuuri might think they’re fighting for his time as a coach – but to Victor, they’re fighting as alphas, each trying to woo him to their sides.

Yurio fights tooth and nail for every scrap of time with Victor. He lashes out at Yuuri, berates him and chastises him. He steps on the ice and _dominates_ it, as if he’s never once doubted his abilities on that playing field.

If Victor was ten years younger – and not pregnant with Yuuri’s child – he might be swayed. He _would_ be swayed. Yurio is young – but already Victor can tell he’ll be a force to be reckoned with, an alpha of power and determination, almost too much for the sport he’s chosen.

In a way, thinks Victor, skating Agape is good for him. If an alpha is going to succeed in a sport that is as much grace and beauty as it is sheer power and determination, Yurio is going to have to temper his drive, and find peace within himself, or he’ll destroy himself in the end.

Yuuri is… different. Yuuri struggles with Eros, but doesn’t give up.

_What is your Eros, Yuuri? I’m beginning to fear that it isn’t me._

But… Victor knows what he saw, when he performed Eros for them, on the heels of his far-too-revealing Agape. The open-mouthed wonder on Yuuri’s face, the half-fear, half-hope.

And the way Yuuri breathed, when Victor skated up to him afterwards. So close he could feel Yuuri’s breath on his skin. He couldn’t help but touch him, run his finger along Yuuri’s lips.

_I know your Eros in you somewhere. Even if you don’t know it, I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. I’m carrying the proof it exists!_

_Find it, Yuuri_.

All week, Yuuri comes so close to finding the confidence and self-awareness that he’d exhibited that night in Sochi. Victor can see it in the way he works. All week, Victor wants to show him how to find it – to take Yuuri in his arms and kiss him, whisper the secret he’s still carrying in his ear to give him motivation, the confidence he needs to show his Eros to the world – but he can’t.

Yuuri won’t let him be that close.

Yurio holds Victor even closer.

He can feel the tension mounting in them both. Yurio snaps and lashes out, Yuuri waits patiently, doggedly running to the ice every night to practice. Yurio puts his head down and pushes back, arguing every decision and field trip. Yuuri follows along, determined and steady, never once questioning anything.

They’re fighting for Victor, two alphas locked in battle, neither of them willing to concede. It’s as vicious a fight as if his estrus and not his time were at stake.

_Find your Eros_ , Victor almost begs. _Fight for it. Fight for me._

_Yuuri, find me._

*

The morning of Onsen on Ice, Victor wakes, sick to his stomach.

He barely makes it to the toilet on time before he coughs up the thin bile in his stomach. It’s still dark outside, the house is asleep.

Most of it, anyway. There’s a light on in the kitchen, and the soft, distant sounds of someone making tea. Victor brushes the sour flavor off his teeth and then pulls on a robe, chilled and hungry and miserable. Makkachin whines, pushes up against him, and it takes a long moment for Victor to gather himself together and find the energy to go down the hall.

He hopes Hiroko didn’t hear him in the toilet. He doesn’t think she did. Her smile is gentle as she offers him a bowl of rice and green tea with too much sugar, exactly as he likes it. She doesn’t say anything apart from a murmured _Good morning_ , and Victor takes that as a good sign. The rice settles his stomach, anyway, and the tea wakes him up the rest of the way.

By the end of the day, his fate will be sealed. Yurio’s found his agape. And Yuuri….

Victor is not religious. He prays anyway.

*

Yurio’s skate is beautiful, and Victor cannot take his eyes away. There’s a quiet desperation in his skate, as if Yuri is still striving for an ideal that he doesn’t believe he can reach.

He’s skating Victor’s program – and now Victor sees it for what is. A program from a father learning to love his child. Of course Yurio can’t skate it. He’s a child, learning to love his parents. He won’t be able to win with it until he makes the program his own.

Victor wonders if Yuuri sees the difference. He’s watching Yurio with a strange expression, as if on some level, he’s aware that the fight he’s about to undertake is worth far more than just Victor’s time and attention.

“Yuuri. It’s your turn.”

There’s something about the open fear in Yuuri’s face that makes Victor think….

Yuuri hugs him, arms tight around Victor’s shoulders.

The scent of Yuuri – the spicy sweetness of his skin, the dust embedded in Victor’s old costume. The feel of Yuuri’s warmth combined with the way the gemstones scratch against Victor’s neck, catch on his hair, and pull so gently.

It’s the first time since December that Yuuri has reached for Victor, and Victor can barely breathe. His arms go around Yuuri, so cautiously, as one would hold a frightened bird.

Victor might have been sleepwalking since morning. With Yuuri’s touch, he’s _alive_.

_Yuuri, do you know? Can you feel it?_

“Please watch me,” whispers Yuuri.

“Always,” whispers Victor, and then Yuuri’s on the ice – but it’s still there, a cord running between them. Victor can feel it pulsing. He doesn’t need Yuuri to ask; the world could end, and Victor wouldn’t pull his eyes away.

The music begins, and Yuuri moves.

It’s different – it’s _all_ different, and the cord between them pulses as Yuuri begins to dance.

_He’s dancing for me_ , realizes Victor, and when Yuuri blows the kiss, Victor can’t help the pleased whistle he sends back. This is the Yuuri he imagined waiting for him. _This_ is the reunion he’s been wanting.

Even if the Yuuri on the ice isn’t _quite_ the Yuuri he remembers, it’s the closest he’s seen in the last few weeks. Yuuri’s been wearing a mask – and Victor wonders how long it’s been since he donned it. Does Yuuri even know the difference between the real Yuuri, and the mask he wears?

Then again… does Victor?

Either way, it’s clear: on the ice, skating Eros, Yuuri remembers what it’s like, to live life without the weight of the mask on his face or hanging around his neck.

Yuuri doesn’t fight on the ice.

He doesn’t need to. There’s no doubt by the end. The program Victor choreographed in the wake of their night together wasn’t something Yuuri needed to learn – it was something he needed to _remember_.

Victor knows Yuuri remembers.

“You’ll stay and be my coach now, right, Victor?”

Even if Yuuri himself doesn’t.

*

It’s late that night in the onsen. Yurio has returned to Russia. Yuuri has gone to sleep, smiling and laughing and happy, even if there’s a strange look in his eyes when he looks at Victor, as if he wants to say something, as if looking at Victor brings up odd memories he can’t quite grasp.

_A soft kiss in the dimly lit hotel room, lips pressed to throats, fingers on hips, skin touching skin. The air is molten around them, everything is slow and sweet, waves of pleasure and pain and tenderness. Victor stretches his arms above his head, and Yuuri kisses the dimples in his chest, whispering words Victor doesn’t understand, and only remembers as if in a dream._

“Vicchan, you should be in bed,” says Hiroko, when she comes in to clear away the empty cups and plates from the table.

“I’ll go in a minute,” says Victor, not wanting to move. It’s quiet in the onsen. He’s ending the day as it began, just himself and Hiroko awake.

She kneels next to him, and says nothing. She smiles, same as she always does, and for the first time all day, Victor feels… settled.

_It’ll be fine. He’ll remember eventually._

“Go to sleep, Vicchan,” says Hiroko, and her touch on his face is soft. A sweet caress from a caring parent, and Victor leans into it. “You both need your rest.”

_He’ll remember me._

“Okay,” he says, and goes.


	3. Hope, Regret, Reassurance, Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three of Victuuri Week. Would you believe I managed all four of the daily prompts in today's chapter? I DID. I am so proud of me. (They're the chapter title, because I am terrible at titles.)
> 
> Public service announcement: [Please do not attempt figure skating jumps while pregnant](https://www.fsuniverse.net/forum/index.php?threads/skating-while-pregnant.74893/), unless you are a Russian five-time World Champion men's singles skater. Victor is an idiot. Cute, but an idiot. 
> 
> You guys are all way too clever. You'll know why when you get to the end of the chapter.

Perhaps happily ever after was too much to hope for, thinks Victor, when April turns to May, and Yuuri still shies away from him.

The hug before Yuuri’s Eros performance was supposed to have signaled a breakthrough – Yuuri’s acceptance of Victor’s return to his life. But now that Yurio has returned to Russia, now that it’s just the two of them, now that Yuuri can be assured that Victor is _his_ … nothing has changed. Not really. Yuuri is just as cautious and reserved as before.

It makes no _sense_ , and Victor is at a loss as to what he can do about it.

He’s at a loss for so many things, really. His body settles into pregnancy, maybe because he’s finally fully accepted it, feels safe enough to sink into it. When he looks at his reflection in the mirror, he can see curves and bulges where before there were only straight lines and solid muscle.

It won’t be long before Yuuri notices the changes in Victor’s body or his scent. Victor can’t keep his pregnancy a secret forever – though it was never his intention to keep it this long, anyway. Of course, it’s not as if Yuuri is close enough to realize the truth on his own.

He averts his eyes when Victor walks through the baths, naked except for the towel around his waist.

He closes the door when Victor wants to have late nights talking about everything and nothing at all.

He claims exhaustion when Victor wants to explore Hasetsu.

Every gesture of friendship, every attempt to get closer to him, all met with Yuuri’s skittish indifference. Every effort Victor makes is rebuffed, over and over.

Worse – they’re getting nowhere with Yuuri’s free skate program. It’s as if the confident alpha that Victor sees on the ice and remembers from the hotel room lives only in Victor’s memory.

Victor wants to grab Yuuri by the shoulders and _shake_ him. It’s frustrating. Even worse – it’s _frightening_ , because Victor _knows_ there’s a confident, poised alpha _somewhere_ in Yuuri, and he’s tired of doubting that it exists.

“You must have had faith in yourself at some point,” says Victor one day. His head hurts, his back hurts, his feet hurt, and his heart aches. “ _Think_ , Yuuri. Can’t you remember a time when you were with an omega, maybe even sharing their heat?”

The words slip out before he can think. It’s not how he meant to tell Yuuri.

Yuuri recoils.

“ _What?! I never—!_ ”

Victor stares at him, his body turning to lead.

_Doesn’t he… doesn’t he even want to acknowledge what we had together?_

“I’m sorry,” he says coolly. “I forgot. You’ve never had an omega in heat, have you?”

“No, I—" Yuuri is beet-red, stammering as he apologizes over and over for his rudeness and his exhaustion and for everything for the thing Victor wants to hear the most.

Victor doesn’t want to hear any of it.

Victor is numb.

*

There’s cherry blossoms on the trees, and Victor is in his second trimester. He’s no closer to breaking through the barrier Yuuri seems determined to keep in perfect condition.

_Maybe I’ve made too much of that night. But I’ve been living with the constant reminder of it the last five months. He’s been able to forget._

Victor sits at the breakfast table, idly tapping the fried egg that covers his rice with the tip of one chopstick, daring the yolk to break.

_He’s the lucky one. But I’m not sure I envy him, or if I’m exasperated with him._

It’s late. Yuuri’s still asleep.

_I could go back to Russia. At least Yura wants me._

“It will taste better in your stomach, Vicchan,” chides Hiroko. She’s laughing at him, but in a kind sort of way that he doesn’t really mind. “You need to eat.”

 “I’m not hungry.”

He can’t go back to Russia. Not without talking to Yuuri first. He regrets the idea as soon as he has it, wraps it up in brown paper and puts it away.

_Yura wants me only as a coach. I know that once, Yuuri wanted me as something more._

He’ll find a way to tell Yuuri. And soon.

_If he wants to pretend the Grand Prix didn’t happen… all right, then. That’s what I’ll do. I can meet him halfway._

_We’ll start fresh._

And it starts… with waking him up.

*

“Yuuri, let’s go to the ocean.”

*

Yuuri wears his agitation like a coat. Victor tries not to mind as they wind their way through the twisting, turning streets of Hasetsu, picking their way down the hill to the Bay. There’s a brisk wind that makes spring feel closer to fall, and Victor keeps his hands in his pockets, except where the sidewalks are particularly broken up, and he needs to hold them out for balance. He’s already worrying about how he’ll coach Yuuri, with his center of balance becoming worse day by day. The last thing he needs is a broken ankle on top of a pregnancy.

A few days ago, he’d be trying to draw Yuuri out of his shell. He’d switch the topics of his single-sided conversation quickly, trying to find the one thing that might work to convince Yuuri to open up to him.

Now – they walk peacefully next to each other. The silence is more pleasant than he anticipated. There’s the scent of salt on the breeze that lifts his hair, and Victor breathes in it, his face up to the sky, even while Yuuri remains hunched over, occasionally shooting nervous glances Victor, as if he’s confused as to why Victor remains quiet.

Victor doesn’t see the crack in the sidewalk; he only knows he’s stumbled, and then there’s Yuuri’s hands on his arm, breaking his fall.

“Oh,” says Victor, his hand instinctively going to his stomach.

“Are you all right?” asks Yuuri, worried.

“Yes,” says Victor, a bit shaken. Yuuri hangs on as he stands up. “I should watch where I’m going.”

“Yes,” says Yuuri. There’s an odd look in his eyes, as if he wants to look away from Victor, but can’t quite bring himself to do it, and when he lets go of Victor’s arm, his fingers linger for a moment before he draws them away.

It’s brief. Too brief – and still more contact with Yuuri than Victor’s had since the hug. He thinks it bodes well.

The beach is deserted – of course, it’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week, and it’s still too cold to really sunbathe or swim. Makkachin bounds ahead of them in pursuit of whatever is making the horrible rotting-fish smell. The seagulls scream overhead, arguing over something, and they walk along the railroad tracks for at least a mile, until the city is behind them, and the hills are covered with more trees and grass than asphalt and concrete.

Victor’s head spins a little bit. His stomach rolls with hunger, and Yuuri gives him a sort of smiling look.

“Didn’t you have breakfast?”

“Your mother packed me a snack,” says Victor, and pulls the sandwich out of his pocket.

They sit facing the water, and with the prospect of food, Makkachin bounds up, settling herself down between them. Victor regrets the barrier, but when Yuuri starts to absentmindedly scratch her under her collar, he smiles to himself.

_Makkachin’s not a barrier. She’s a bridge_.

All right. That’s where he can begin.

“Makkachin’s always liked the beach. I’m not sure if it’s the water or the dead things she digs up, though.”

And there it is – a smile from Yuuri Katsuki.

“Vicchan was the same,” he says.

_Success!_

“Your dog.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri glances at him. “He liked the crabs best, or he did until one clipped him on the nose. He never went into the water. He even hated getting baths.”

Victor chuckles. “And he lived in an onsen.”

“Bad luck, yeah,” says Yuuri, and then goes quiet again.

Victor waits for a few minutes, but Yuuri stays silent. He can almost feel the barriers rising again – but they’re not quite the same now. There’s cracks, small ones, as if Yuuri’s not so dedicated to building them anymore.

“I think—" begins Yuuri, and then breaks off.

Victor waits. It’s the hardest wait he’s ever had. Worse than waiting for the little blue line, and at the time, he hadn’t thought anything could be that excruciating.

“He was a lot smaller than Makkachin,” says Yuuri finally. “The waves were bigger to him.”

Victor wants to jump up and cheer. He wants to reach across Makkachin and wrap Yuuri in his arms. He wants to sing and dance, and kiss Yuuri there in the sand, breathe in his scent and put Yuuri’s hand on his stomach where their baby sleeps.

He doesn’t. He’s so very, very restrained.

“I think Makkachin was always this big,” he says, remembering so long ago, when she was a puppy overexcited with the world.

“She had to have been a puppy sometime.”

“She was big even then. She was four months old when I got her, and already two feet tall.”

Yuuri’s eyes are wide. “Wow. Vicchan was a toy poodle. He was half that, even full-grown.”

It’s going so well. Yuuri’s sitting up, almost facing him. He’s _talking_ , without any hesitation in his voice.

It makes Victor giddy.

“A poodle as big as Makkachin would be a bit much for a dorm room,” says Victor easily.

But Yuuri’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. He didn’t come with me, though. I left him here in Japan when I went to Detroit.”

“Oh,” says Victor, at a loss for words.

_Damn. Now he’ll pull away again…._

Except….

“It was better that way,” continues Yuuri, still stroking Makkachin’s topknot. “I wouldn’t have had any time to spend with him, between classes and skating practice. I was barely in my dorm room as it was.”

“I wouldn’t know,” says Victor. “I didn’t go to college.”

“I always wondered why not,” says Yuuri. “It’s not because you’re an omega, is it?”

Victor shrugged. “College isn’t something done in Russia, for athletes. As soon as I finished basic schooling, I devoted myself to the ice, full time.” He glances at Yuuri. “It must have been hard, leaving Vicchan behind. I’m not sure I could have left Makkachin.”

“It was hard for me. But it was better for Vicchan. And I think it was good for my mom, too. She missed me a lot when I left, but she had Vicchan to keep her company.”

Yuuri turns then, and wraps his arms around his knees. For a moment, Victor can see the walls going back up….

_No – no, Yuuri! Stay with me._

Yuuri’s voice is muffled by his arms. “I miss him a lot now.”

Victor’s breath catches in his throat.

_His walls are still down._

_He’s still here._

_Now. Tell him now_.

“Yuuri,” says Victor, uncertain how to begin.

The breeze ruffles Yuuri’s hair.

_Just ask him._

The seagulls screech overhead and catch his attention.

“Yuuri, tell me what you want me to be to you.”

*

And like that… he’s through.

*

Victor doesn’t tell Yuuri about the baby.

He can’t find the words. And in a way – he doesn’t want to. Every moment with Yuuri is easier than the last. Every day they’re on the ice is better and better.

They’re not lovers.

They’re not even prospective parents.

They’re _friends_ , and Victor wants to cling to that connection as tightly as he can, because now that he has it, he realizes how important it is to him.

_If I tell him… everything will change._

_I could lose him._

Instead, he watches Yuuri’s evolution – from the closed-off, quiet young man he’s come to know and admire and like, into a careful, thoughtful, wickedly quick and funny alpha who it’d be very easy to fall in love with. This Yuuri doesn’t quite have the drive and self-assuredness of the alpha Victor met in Sochi – but Victor can sense him there, all the same, just under the surface.

“Yuuri,” says Victor, “have you decided on a theme for your season?”

“Oh,” says Yuuri, blushing a bit. “On my love.”

Victor wants to laugh. Hope bubbles in his chest, and the heaviness he’s been feeling – the exhaustion and the aches that seem to renew themselves every morning when he wakes and runs his fingers along his slowly increasing stomach…

“Okay,” he says, buoyant. “Let’s finish this.”

*

_Tell him._

_I will. Tomorrow. Or the next day. Soon, though. Soon._

*

Early morning tea with Hiroko has turned into a habit, even if his bouts of morning sickness have abated. Victor’s stomach has rounded out now, and it’s only the grace of a chilly spring that allows him to keep wearing the sweatshirts and coats that hide it.

But summer is fast approaching, and already Yuuri has thrown him a curious look when he comes out wearing the bulky winter clothing.

_I have to tell Yuuri about the baby._

“Eat, Vicchan,” Hiroko chides him, and Victor frowns at the bowl of rice with the fried egg on top. It’s nutritious, it’s warming, it settles his belly and gives him the energy to keep moving.

_We’re playing games. The longer I go, the more hurt he’ll be. The sooner he’ll realize. I have no idea how I’ve kept it from him this long._

“I’m not hungry,” he says.

Hiroko clucks at him. “It’s not about you, Vicchan, it’s for the baby.”

Victor freezes. The chopsticks fall from his fingers and clatter on the table.

“I….” he says, and can’t say another word. Hiroko picks up the chopsticks for him, setting them back in his hand.

“You think I don’t recognize the faraway look in your eyes?” she scolds him.

Victor is falling. He sits on the stool in the kitchen, breaths coming steadily, but he’s falling, the wind rushing past his ears.

“Who else knows?” he whispers.

Hiroko shakes her head. “Just me.” She rests her hand on Victor’s. “You’re safe here. We’ll protect you.”

Victor coughs up a laugh. “From who?”

“The father of course.” Hiroko squeezes, then pats his hand before moving away. “I think you are running from him, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here. It’s all right. You’re ours now. You and the baby.”

“It’s… more complicated than that,” says Victor, and there’s a bubble of hysteria brewing in his chest.

_She doesn’t know it’s Yuuri’s. Would she be so welcoming, if she knew?_

“It always is,” says Hiroko. “More vegetables for dinner tonight, I think.”

It’s the end of their beginning, and Victor knows it.

“I have to tell Yuuri,” says Victor.

“Yes,” says Hiroko. “That would be best.”


	4. Free Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Four of Victuuri Week! Today is a free-for-all. Say it real fast, and you'll see where I got my "prompt".

In the end, Victor doesn’t tell Yuuri at all.

“Oh my god. Victor – you’re _pregnant?!?!_ ”

Yuuri’s voice echoes in the onsen. Victor’s skin tightens, every muscle goes tense, every nerve is on alert.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d dropped the towel before slipping into the water. He and Yuuri had been talking about his costumes, whether or not to keep Victor’s old costume for Yuuri’s short program, what sort of style was appropriate for his free.

Victor hadn’t been thinking.

He’d forgotten entirely about his now swollen baby bump. The way his body has spread and remolded itself around his pregnancy.

And now – Yuuri stares at him, his mouth agape, his breaths coming faster in shock.

_In horror._

No. Not horror – Victor’s mind reels back from the thought. Yuuri is holding his forehead by his fingertips, looking at every statue and overgrown plant before his gaze goes straight back to Victor’s body.

Victor’s mouth is dry. “Yuuri—"

“You shouldn’t even be _in_ here,” blurts out Yuuri. “What are you _thinking_? Hot springs are dangerous for the baby! You have to get out.”

Yuuri reaches for him, as if to push him out the door himself – but then jerks back, as if remembering the walls that haven’t quite disappeared between them.

Victor’s heart pounds. It’s hard to get a breath, and the world begins to shift around him. He thinks he might be sick.

“Yuuri, let me—"

Yuuri scoops up Victor’s towel and shoves it at him. “ _Go_. Before you regret it.”

Victor’s last breath comes out in a huff. There’s no air left in him at all. How is he even standing up right? When did the onsen become so warm?

“All right,” he says, because there’s nothing else to say.

His head is still swimming when he goes back into the cool of the locker room. There’s sweat beaded on his forehead, and he sits heavily on the bench.

Everything is in motion, his lungs feel deflated. He’s dizzier than he can ever remember, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to faint.

“Here,” says Toshiya gently, and when Victor opens his bleary eyes, there’s a glass of water in front of him. He takes it from Toshiya gratefully, and drinks half of it in a single gulp. “Just rest quietly.”

“Was Yuuri right?” asks Victor, still gasping around the water. “About the hot water being bad for—"

“No,” says Toshiya. He’s firm, certain – and Victor clings to the idea that Toshiya knows his business. “Traditionally, yes, we didn’t allow pregnant guests, but there’s been recent studies that say it’s all right. Too recent for Yuuri to know, since he wasn’t here when they were published. You aren’t putting yourself or the baby at risk, or we would have stopped you weeks ago.”

Victor looks up sharply. It makes his head spin even more. Toshiya and Hiroko have known for… “ _Weeks_?”

Toshiya smiles. It’s a kind smile, and makes Victor think of Yuuri’s infectious grin when he’s landed a quad for the first or fourth or fortieth time.

Victor breathes. It’s easier now. Toshiya’s alpha scent, so close to Yuuri’s, is calming and supportive.

It’s not the same as if it was Yuuri’s scent, but… it’s enough to keep him from hyperventilating.

“Drink the water, and then maybe lie down,” he says. “You and the baby are both safe with us. We’ll talk to Yuuri.”

Victor shakes his head. “No. I should talk to him.”

“Soon,” says Toshiya, and leaves him be.

*

Victor is falling, and falling hard. His head hasn’t stopped whirling since Yuuri shouted in the baths, and even sitting on the cushions on the floor, Makkachin’s head in his lap, he can feel the Earth spin around him.

Everything is moving, and everything makes sure he knows it.

“So that’s why you’re here,” says Yuuri. “I’m just a convenient place to run, it’s not about coaching me at all.”

“That’s not true,” says Victor sharply.

Yuuri shakes his head. Victor doesn’t know if he really believes it, or just _wants_ to believe it. “You can’t skate next season, not if you’re pregnant.”

Yuuri isn’t shouting anymore. He’s subdued and quiet, but Victor can hear the tremor in his voice. He’s sitting across the room from Victor, and can’t meet his eyes.

“The baby’s due in September,” says Victor. “I wouldn’t be pregnant by the time the season really starts.”

Yuuri looks up sharply. “That’s… _that’s not the point_!” he says crossly. “It’s not like you’d have been able to practice!”

“I would have finished choreographing before I was too big to skate. And then it would have only been a matter of regaining my balance.”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide. “Oh… that’s why you stopped doing the quads and triples. Why your spins have been slower. Your center of balance—"

“I may not have realized how much being pregnant affected my performance on the ice,” says Victor, with a bit of a smile. It’s a shaky smile, but it’s the best he thinks he can manage.

And maybe, if he’s lucky, Yuuri will smile back.

He does, so briefly that it’s lucky Victor didn’t blink. Yuuri’s eyes still don’t meet Victor’s, though – and it’s not hard to realize where Yuuri’s gaze lands.

“You kept it from me all this time,” murmurs Yuuri.

“Well,” says Victor cautiously, “you didn’t notice. And… I didn’t want to spring it on you.”

Yuuri’s nod is so, so slow. “I’m not sure what to think.”

“I didn’t know either, when I found out. I don’t think I thought about anything for at least a month.”

Yuuri smiles again, and this time, it lasts a little bit longer. “I think… I’m a little bit glad?”

Victor’s heart surges.

“I mean,” continues Yuuri, “if you’d been able to skate next season, you probably wouldn’t be here to coach me now.”

And then Victor’s falling again, spinning and swirling with Yuuri’s voice echoing in his ear.

“I’d have come anyway,” he says. His voice is rough. “Do you really think I wouldn’t have?”

“People skate your programs every day,” says Yuuri. “Maybe the videos don’t always go viral, but—"

“You aren’t convenient, Yuuri.” Victor bites his lip, hard enough to make it hurt. The pain makes the dizziness easier to bear for a moment. “Nothing about you is _convenient,_ which you’d know if you ever tried to get here from Saint Petersburg. Even if I wasn’t pregnant, I would have come. If only to bring you back to Russia with me. I came for you. No other reason.”

Yuuri’s clearly flummoxed – his eyes go wide, and for a moment, Victor thinks he might burst into tears.

“You would have?” whispers Yuuri, and he sound so _small_. “Victor, I—"

There’s a twist in Victor’s heart, looking at Yuuri, at the surprise on Yuuri’s face.

_Yuuri – don’t make me say it. Please, surely you can guess the truth!_

“So I guess you’ll have the baby here in Japan?”

“That was my thought, yes,” says Victor. His heart is in his throat; he might choke on it if there isn’t _something_ to break the tension.

Yuuri nods, as if the onsen is a prime destination for foreigners about to have a baby. “I admit, I didn’t have any idea – I guess you must have had your doctor’s appointments while I’ve been doing weights with Nishigori-san.”

Victor blinks. “Um. No?”

Yuuri is confused for only a moment, and then his eyes narrow. “Victor. Tell me you’ve at least _seen_ a doctor?”

“I’ve been feeling fine,” protests Victor. “Omegas have been getting pregnant for centuries, how hard can this be?”

“Oh my God,” groans Yuuri, and covers his face with his hands. “You… _Victor_.” His head snaps up, and his eyes flash. It’s almost _sexy_ , how quickly he puts on the mantle of an alpha. “You have to find a doctor and go see them or… or….”

Victor feels a comfortable warmth wash over him. There’s something about the _forcefulness_ of Yuuri’s sudden flush of anger that makes him feel very, very content.

And just a little bit playful. “Or?” he prompts Yuuri.

“Or I’m going put a _backflip_ in the middle of Eros,” finishes Yuuri, triumphantly.

Victor bursts into laughter. “That would be _fantastic_.”

“No, it wouldn’t!” exclaims Yuuri. “They’re not worth anything and it detracts from the rest of the performance!”

“Can you even _do_ a backflip?”

“It doesn’t matter because first thing tomorrow morning you’re making an appointment with an omegologist!”

Victor is still giggling. “But _Yuuuuri_! I want to see your backflip!”

“Go to an omegologist and I’ll consider it,” says Yuuri, and smiles at him.

The world slowly stops turning circles around Victor. Yuuri’s smile is almost as comforting as being claimed.

Or maybe it’s the way Yuuri’s gone all protective of Victor, and by extension, the baby. It’s a tiny glimpse of the alpha Victor remembers from Sochi, and the only way it’d be more perfect is if Yuuri came to sit by him, close enough that Victor could smell the scent of his hair, feel the warmth of his skin. Feel the strength in his fingers as Victor brings Yuuri’s hand to his stomach, to feel the baby within….

“What about the father?” says Yuuri suddenly.

Victor’s world begins to crumble.

“Is he all right with you being here? You haven’t talked about him—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t assume it’s even a him. Oh, God – I shouldn’t have asked at all, it’s none of my business who the father is—”

The world is in pieces.

Victor doesn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or reach out and grab Yuuri by the shoulders and shout at him.

Somehow, he finds his voice. “It’s fine. The father… I didn’t see him for a while after the Grand Prix banquet.”

_Tell him. Tell him. Tell him._

“Does he know?”

Victor can’t answer. He closes his eyes and bows his head, trying to breathe, trying to catch himself from falling again.

_I… I thought he did, for a moment. Now, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore_.

“Victor, I…” whispers Yuuri, and the room is quiet for a while, except for the distant noise of the onsen’s guests.

_Tell him. Tell him. Tell him._

There’s a soft shuffling sound, and when Victor opens his eyes, Yuuri has moved across the room and now kneels in front of Victor, biting his lip.

“We’ll take care of you,” he says softly. “You’re safe now.”

Victor smiles a little bit. “Your father said the same thing.”

Yuuri smiles. “My father’s a good man. If I’m lucky, I’ll be half the alpha he is one day.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” says Victor. “You already are.”

*

Every day, they go to the Ice Castle. Every day, Yuuri’s programs are a little bit stronger, his confidence on the ice a little bit surer.

Every day, Victor’s body changes a little bit more. He thought his body had been expanding before – it’s nothing compared to now, when he no longer hides beneath the bulky sweatshirts and sweatpants. The baby is growing, and Victor isn’t allowed to forget it, not for a moment.

He doesn’t want to forget it. His hands explore his growing stomach, feeling the curve of it, trying to determine if the bumps are knees or elbows or feet or hands. Sometimes just when he thinks he’s got the baby all mapped out in his head – it shifts, and he realizes he’s had everything backwards.

He tries not to think of the little girl he saw on the ice. The baby is no less real, but… he doesn’t want to know what will happen when she turns and he’s able to see her face so clearly. He doesn’t want to think about whether or not Yuuri is on the ice with them.

“Are you going to find out what it is?” asks Yuuri curiously. He leans against the boards surrounding the ice, a bit sweaty from his workout. Victor, on the other hand, stands in his shoes on the other side, because Yuuri refuses to skate if Victor is skating with him, at least until the doctor has given him the okay.

Yuuri, even sweaty, smells so good that Victor almost wants to forgive him his over-protectiveness. Either that or knock him down, steal his skates, and do twizzles across the ice.

“No,” says Victor. His stomach isn’t quite big enough to let him rest his hand on it comfortably – at least, not without seeming a bit pretentious. “It’ll just be a very good surprise.”

“But then you’d only have to think of one name, instead of two.”

Victor shrugs. “I’m not really thinking names at all just yet.”

Yuuri frowns, and then shakes his head. “If you name this baby Salchow, I’m kicking you out of the onsen. You can go live with the Nishigoris instead.”

Victor bursts into laughter. “Wow, Yuuri, what a great idea. And it works for a boy _or_ a girl!”

“That’s… that’s _not what I meant_.”

“Yuuuuko!” shouts Victor over his shoulder to the office, where Yuuko sits every morning doing paperwork. “Yuuri just named the baby! You’re going to love it!”

“Shut up!” hisses Yuuri, but he doesn’t mean it, because he’s smiling, too.

*

It’s easier now to talk to Yuuri. Not that it’d ever been _hard_ , exactly, but… with the weight of his pregnancy lighter on his shoulders (if heavier on his lower back), Victor finds talking about the upcoming season to be… well… _fun_.

“The blue,” says Yuuri. They’re bent over a catalog of skating costumes for ideas before putting in a final order on Yuuri’s free skate costume. “I like blue.”

“The purple,” says Victor. “You never wear purple.”

“I know. Because I like blue.”

Their conversations last days – they never end, they just morph from one topic to the next.

 “We should think about your hair,” muses Victor as he fiddles with Yuuri’s hair after dinner. “What do you normally do with it?”

“I don’t know, put stuff in it so it stays put?”

“You could grow it, and then tie it back.” Victor likes the idea of Yuuri with longer hair. It does very pleasant things to his stomach, which is nice, because the baby is usually ensuring that most of what happens to his stomach is very unpleasant.

Yuuri shudders. “You ever spend your tenth summer cleaning hair out of the onsen’s drainpipes? No? Great. Do that, and I’ll grow my hair out.”

Victor sits up and turns toward Toshiya. “Toshio! How do you clean the drains?”

“No!” laughs Yuuri, and pulls him back down onto the cushions.

“I like your glasses,” says Victor, half asleep on his bed. Yuuri putters around the room, putting away the last of the laundry that Victor can never be bothered to fold. “Even if they’re not purple.”

“Which is why I should wear _blue_. To match my glasses.”

“You don’t wear your glasses on the ice.”

“If I did, I might land more jumps,” teases Yuuri. His voice is so bright and happy – it’s infectious. Victor couldn’t feel more content if he tried.

He doesn’t want to lose this feeling. He doesn’t want to say anything that could mean its end.

“They’d fly off when you spin.”

“Which is why I don’t wear them. Anyway, I’d look kind of stupid with glasses and my hair slicked back.”

“Not stupid,” murmurs Victor, already floating on a wave of sleep. It’s easy to imagine Yuuri like that – glasses and slicked back hair that doesn’t quite stay in place. “Sexy.”

There’s no answer – but the mood is still soft, comfortable, and Yuuri is still sitting close to him. He hasn’t moved, he hasn’t darted away.

He might be breathing a bit faster – or a bit slower. Victor’s too tired to tell.

“Go to sleep, Victor,” says Yuuri softly. He might be smiling. His tone is soft.

“Okay,” says Victor, and does.

*

Yuuri smiles so _much_ when Victor is near. Victor’s not sure he realizes.

He loves it when Yuuri smiles – and the more time passes, the more he does it. Victor’s taken note of Yuuri’s smiles: the wide ones when he’s excited and pleased. The quiet ones when he’s amused and happy.

The soft, awed smiles as he looks at Victor when he thinks Victor doesn’t see him.

Those are Victor’s favorites, even if they send his heart twisting and falling through space. Even if they’re a bit confusing, because why does Yuuri look at him like that, unless he realizes the baby is his, too?

Yuuri still doesn’t know.

Victor still needs to tell him.

_Tomorrow_ , he tells himself.

*

But the next day, there’s a crisis at the onsen when one of the pipes in the showers bursts, and they end up skipping practice to help with the clean-up. It’s too wet in the showers for Victor to help – neither of the Katsuki alphas will allow him to step foot in the water, either because of cleanliness concerns, or because they’re afraid he’ll slip and fall. Victor spends the day helping serve alcohol to guests, and barely sees Yuuri at all.

And the day after that, Yuuri flubs his combinations so badly that he storms off to Minako’s dance studio, so angry with himself that he’s unwilling to even talk to Victor about what went wrong. It’s late that evening when Victor, exhausted, walks through Hasetsu to find him, shoves Yuuri’s sneakers at him without a word, and then drags him back to the onsen as Yuuri scowls the entire way.

And the day after _that_ , Makkachin is bitten on the nose by a crab so badly she bleeds, and Yuuri stops being angry with the world and helps Victor take her to the vet, where she’s given an antibiotic and a stern lecture about sea creatures before being sent home to recuperate.

“I’m sorry,” says Yuuri that evening, as Makkachin lies between them, tail sadly wagging. Her chin rests on Yuuri’s knee as he scratches her behind the topknot. Yuuri doesn’t look at Victor, but Victor’s stomach lurches anyway. “I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s a little my fault,” says Victor.

“Your ego is not that big,” scoffs Yuuri. “I’m the one who tried a quad-triple combination after having spent the previous day shoveling water out of a locker room.”

“Cardio,” says Victor, and Yuuri chuckles.

_Tell him. Tell him now._

“Yuuri,” he says.

_Shove_.

Victor sucks in a breath, and rests his hand on his stomach.

Yuuri is immediately up on his knees, dislodging Makkachin without a single thought. “What is it? Are you okay? Do I need to call the doctor? It’s too early, you can’t have the—"

“ _Yuuri_ ,” says Victor. “Calm down—"

“ _Don’t tell me to calm down you’re the one who’s holding his stomach like—!”_

Victor reaches across Makkachin, takes Yuuri’s hand, and presses it to his stomach.

Yuuri’s eyes go wide, and he freezes.

It only takes a moment, and Victor can feel the shift, though perhaps in a very different way than how Yuuri feels it.

“ _Oh_.” It’s like all the air inside Yuuri comes rushing out, and Victor wants to laugh looking at him because the sudden attack of nerves that’s taken Yuuri settles into wonder. “That’s… I felt…” He frowns, confused. “A foot?”

“Maybe,” says Victor, looking at his stomach, and Yuuri’s hand under his, pressed up against it. “I can never actually tell.”

“Oh, wait.” Yuuri leans in closer, and then there’s _two_ hands on his stomach, cradling it. “Oh, _wow_. I think that’s an elbow. These over here – they’re kind of flat? I think these are feet.”

“Okay,” laughs Victor. Yuuri is leaning in closer, as if he can see straight through the fabric and skin, and Victor’s never been more delighted in his _life_.

The baby squirms and wiggles under Yuuri’s hands, as if she recognizes the shape of them.

_Maybe she does_.

Yuuri’s hands are warm, even through Victor’s thin shirt. They keep moving, mapping out the baby’s turns, and Yuuri’s talking softly to himself.

“Okay, now she’s over here – wow, she’s _turning_ , how does she even do that? Woah, she _kicked_ me. Victor! She _kicked_ me!”

Yuuri sits up, mouth agape and eyes wide and bright.

Victor’s heart does a jump in his chest.

“She?” he asks lightly.

Yuuri blinks – and then seems to realize where his hands lie. “Oh, I – I’m sorry I should have asked before—"

Yuuri jerks his hands back, but Victor catches them in his, pulling them softly back.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s nice. To have someone else feel her.”

“Oh,” says Yuuri softly, clearly unsure of himself, but he settles back down, hands resting on Victor’s stomach. “It’s… don’t take this the wrong way, Victor? But I think you’re bigger than you were a few weeks ago.”

Victor laughs. “I hope so. Salchow’s meant to be growing.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re really calling her that.”

“Or him. Salchow could be a boy.”

Yuuri snorts. “You’re missing the point.”

Yuuri’s thumb rubs against Victor’s stomach – light, gentle caresses. Victor thinks it’s involuntary. He’s not entirely sure, but he’s not going to point it out, either, because he likes it too much. The baby seems to like it too, given the way it’s pressing a foot up against the motion.

“Come with me tomorrow,” says Victor.

Yuuri glances up from Victor’s stomach. “Huh?”

“The omegologist appointment. Come with me.”

“I – really? Victor, I—"

Yuuri slips his hands out of Victor’s, pulling them away – but he remains kneeling, so close that Victor can see the flecks of black in his brown eyes, the subtle variations of color in his hair.

Victor’s heart thumps.

 “O-okay. I’d like that.”

And then Yuuri smiles.

Victor falls. It’s not the dizzy sensation of twisting and turning that he’s felt so many times in the last few months, when he’s lost his equilibrium. It’s not head over heels, like the poets claim that falling in love feels like. It’s not even the swift, straight-to-the-bottom of a free fall, so rapid that one’s breath is taken away.

Falling in love with Yuuri Katsuki is soft: a feather drifting down, snowflakes whispering through the air, a misty rain on a warm summer morning.

“I’d like that, too,” says Victor, and just like that, he lands.


	5. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV shift! Today is Day Five of Victuuri Week, and I'm going with the prompt "family" - so I thought it'd be fun to see the action from the family's POV. They see what Victor can't, after all!
> 
> I am so overwhelmed and overjoyed at the response to this fic, and I want very badly to respond to every single comment - but Readers, I am _exhausted_ tonight and I'm going to go to bed as soon as I hit "post". (And on that note, I am sure I have missed things in this chapter; please feel free to point them out to me.)
> 
> Enjoy!

“New patient in exam room three,” says the nurse, handing the chart to Dr. Sato Atsuko.

Dr. Sato studies the chart with a frown on her face, before flipping through the sparse pages. “There’s no history here.”

“He doesn’t have one,” says the nurse.

Dr. Sato groans. “Another one.”

The nurse shakes her head; it’s unclear if she’s exasperated or amused. “And he’s _five months along_.”

They chuckle to themselves, briefly, before Dr. Sato goes to exam room three. Before she knocks on the door, she listens for a moment. There’s two men inside, talking and laughing softly with each other. Dr. Sato smiles to herself; it’s her favorite moment of the day, listening to the slightly nervous but excited voices of happy, expectant couples.

This is her favorite part of her job: helping two become three. She knocks softly, sorry to interrupt them, but eager to meet them.

“Come in!” says an accented voice in Japanese, and Dr. Sato glances at the name on the chart. Of course – not a Japanese name at all, which possibly explains the lack of prenatal history records.

She pushes open the door and steps inside. It’s very obvious who her patient is – he’s sitting on the examining table, and though he doesn’t look quite as far along as his chart indicates he is, he has the _glow_ normally associated with pregnant omegas. There’s another young man, too – Japanese, Dr. Sato notices with some relief, so at least language won’t be an issue.

They’re not standing next to each other any longer – assuming they even were. The Japanese alpha is by the window now, but Dr. Sato doesn’t miss the quick, assessing glance in his eyes as he evaluates Dr. Sato for potential threat.

 _The youngest ones are always so protective_ , thinks Dr. Sato, amused, as she turns to Victor, careful to keep a respectful distance.

“Good morning to you both. I’m Dr. Sato; you are Nikiforov-san?”

“Call me Victor, please. And this is Yuuri,” says Victor. His Japanese isn’t terrible, and Dr. Sato is momentarily relieved. And if nothing else, she imagines his partner can translate the tricky bits.

“Ah, your alpha,” says Dr. Sato. “It’s so good to see you here together today. It isn’t often alphas come with their omegas…”

Dr. Sato trails off as Yuuri shakes his head wildly.

“Oh. Oh no, I’m not his alpha. I’m a friend. Just a friend. Here to make sure he feels safe. That’s all. It’s not my baby.”

Dr. Sato doesn’t think she imagines the wince on Victor’s face – but his smile doesn’t falter.

“Yuuri is a very good friend. The baby’s father is… not in the picture,” explains Victor.

“I apologize,” says Dr. Sato, but her mind is whirling, trying to make sense of Victor’s explanation with what she heard.

“I know I should have come in before,” says Victor.

“It’s not uncommon for male omegas pregnant for the first time to delay medical assistance,” says Dr. Sato. She keeps half an eye on Yuuri by the window. He’s still clearly uncomfortable – but apart from nervous glances at Dr. Sato, he keeps his gaze on Victor. “It’s good you came in when you did, however. Pregnancy in male omegas can be more complicated than in female omegas, and some of your vitals appear to be on the low end of what we’d typically like to see.”

Victor sits up a bit, his hands protectively on his stomach. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Dr. Sato reassures him, noting that Yuuri’s hands have gone into fists. “It’s only you’re on the very low end of the weight scale for your height, and the baby is perhaps a little on the small side as well.”

“I didn’t eat much, the first four months,” admits Victor.

“You didn’t tell me that,” interjects Yuuri, alarmed.

Victor shrugs. “Nothing was appetizing. Until your mother started cooking for me.”

Dr. Sato smiles. “Is Yuuri-san’s mother a good cook?”

“Oh, yes,” says Victor enthusiastically.

“As long as she’s feeding you a balanced diet, then continue on,” says Dr. Sato.

“ _Very_ balanced diet,” says Yuuri firmly.

Victor rolls his eyes and smiles. “But the real question, Dr. Sato – can you please tell Yuuri it’s all right if I start skating again?”

*

“You heard the doctor,” Yuuri scolds as they enter the onsen later that afternoon. Mari looks up from where she’s carrying towels from the laundry back into the baths. Yuuri and Victor are still in the family’s private genkan, pulling off their light-weight jackets to hang on the hooks by the door.

It’s odd to hear Yuuri scold Victor – usually it’s the other way around – so Mari leans out to get a better look, just in time to see Yuuri bend down to help Victor remove his shoes.

“And she said I should be _bigger_ by now,” says Victor glumly. “I don’t know how much bigger I’m going to get, I already can’t see my feet.”

“And you still want to get on the _ice_?”

“The ice is cold,” says Victor stubbornly. “And Salchow is making me run hot.”

“Salchow’s making you run _stubborn_ , I think,” says Yuuri. “Unless you’re this stubborn when you’re not pregnant, too.”

“Yakov would say I am.”

“I bow to Yakov’s superior knowledge of you,” says Yuuri. “Come on. Dr. Sato also said more vegetables.”

“I question this doctor’s expertise. I did perfectly well the first four months on apples and Cadbury fruit-and-nut bars.”

Mari doesn’t miss the exasperated fondness on Yuuri’s face – nor does she miss the way Yuuri’s hand hovers by Victor’s elbow as he steps up into the house.

 _Interesting_ , she thinks, already smiling.

“You swore off Cadbury fruit-and-nut bars after the second week you were here. _Vegetables_ ,” says Yuuri.

Mari darts back into the laundry before either of them can see her.

*

Of all the places in the bathhouse that Toshiya enjoys, it’s the outdoor pools that are his favorite places to tend. When he’d taken the onsen over from his father, the outdoor pools had been simple things, outlined in tile and with a few plants for decoration.

Toshiya added the bushes and flowers, the overflowing water displays, the small bits and pieces of whimsy that make each pool its own special place. He opened the overhangs so that patrons could enjoy the nighttime or daytime sky. Some pools were re-tiled to look like dark little grottos for privacy – some are bright and effervescent, what Toshiya imagines to be floating in a cloud.

Victor has a favorite, and as soon as Toshiya realized this, he made sure to keep it special for him. It’s a smaller pool, one of the first that Toshiya redesigned, so the trees are a bit taller, and the tile already needs to be replaced. Toshiya’s decided to put that chore off until after the baby is born. It’s better that Victor have a safe place to feel comfortable, than to make him move from pool to pool in his last few months of pregnancy.

He hears Victor and Yuuri come into the baths as he tends the bushes a few pools down. It’s fairly slow for a Sunday afternoon. Everyone is likely at the beach, enjoying the first signs of summer.

“It’s only going to get warmer,” Yuuri is saying as they pass by. “Wait until August. Salchow will _bake_.”

Victor groans, and Toshiya smiles, already recognizing Victor’s dramatic flair. “Why is Yuuri so _mean_ to me? Dr. Sato is very pleased with my measurements and _you_ won’t even show me a backflip.”

Toshiya has no idea what that means. He doesn’t _think_ it’s sexual, and if it is, he doesn’t want to know.

Even if Yuuri’s laugh is so much more cheerful and _happy_ than Toshiya can remember hearing his son sound. If Victor weren’t pregnant with another alpha’s child….

“I don’t understand why you won’t agree to go to the beach.”

“It’s not warm enough yet. The water is still too cold.”

“Yuuuuuri. I’m _Russian_ , I’ve been bathing in cold water since I was Salchow’s age.”

Then again, thinks Toshiya, idly listening as he prunes the flowers, it’s not as if Victor mentions the baby’s father at all. Or makes any indication that he misses the absent alpha. There’s no visible bond bite either. It’s almost as if Victor never cared for the alpha who fathered his baby at all.

“You shouldn’t get too cold, it’s bad for the baby,” says Yuuri firmly.

“Oh, and you’re the expert?”

“I’ve been reading up on it!”

“Wow,” says Victor, delighted.

Toshiya can’t help the grin.

“If I’m not supposed to get too cold, then should we be worried that there’s no steam coming from the bath?” asks Victor.

“It’s harder to see when it’s warm outside,” says Yuuri, exactly as if he’s soothing Victor. “Okay, I know you can’t see your feet, so hold on and I’ll help you in.”

“ _Yuuuri_ ,” sings Victor. “The water’s _cold_. If I wanted cold baths, I could have been at the beach. Or in Russia.”

Toshiya frowns, and idly leans back to test the temperature of the water in the pool where he’s working. It’s exactly as it should be, almost too hot to consider, and he shakes it off as he stands up.

“I’ll go check the controls. Maybe someone knocked more cold water in by mistake,” says Yuuri, and his voice sounds oddly strained. “I’ll be right back.”

Toshiya sees Yuuri by the controls at the end of the walkway, where the temperature controls for each pool are kept behind a decorative screen. They’re more safety mechanism than anything else, since there are many guests who can’t handle the typical heat from the hot springs. The controls allow Toshiya to have pools at varying temperatures. Toshiya knows perfectly well that the hot springs aren’t a danger to either Victor or his unborn child – after all, Katsukis for generations have turned out just fine, and no one’s been able to prove their slight obsessive qualities have anything to do with prenatal soaks in the hot springs.

All the same, Toshiya’s not going to feel guilty about _maaaaaaybe_ turning up the cool water flowing into Victor’s favored pool. Just a little bit, though. It’s what a responsible alpha would do, after all.

Yuuri mutters to himself as he finds the controls for Victor’s pool.

“I know I didn’t turn the temperature down _that_ low,” he’s saying, and Toshiya stands back, for a moment, trying not to smile. “I don’t care how Russian he is, cold water baths can’t be any better for Salchow than hot water ones.”

Yuuri turns the controls a bit – and then a bit more, after some deliberation.

“Yuuri!” calls Victor. “Surely the ocean isn’t _this_ cold.”

Yuuri sighs. “The bath isn’t that cold either! Next time I’m taking you to the beach after all!”

“But then I’d have a sunburn, Yuuri! And I’d have to wear a _bathing suit_.”

There’s an odd look on Yuuri’s face, as if he’s trying to decide between smiling, and biting his lip in anticipation. Toshiya stifles his laughter, and when Yuuri turns around again, he ducks behind one of the topiaries so Yuuri won’t see him.

“Better?” asks Yuuri. Toshiya can hear the soft splash of water as Yuuri joins Victor in the pool.

“Now it is,” says Victor, pleased.

 _Interesting_ , thinks Toshiya, unable to keep the glee from rising, and he manages to slip back into the main part of the onsen without either of them seeing him.

*

“Yuuuuuuri,” groans Victor, peering into the mirror at Minako’s studio. “I thought pregnancy was supposed to make my hair _thicker_.”

Minako groans as she corrects Yuuri’s arm placement. “Please do not tell me you got knocked up just to have better hair.”

“You should have seen him cry yesterday when he tried on his favorite shirt,” says Yuuri cheerfully as Minako molds him into position. “He pulled it on and it rolled right up the baby bump to his chest.”

Victor frowns, still trying to see the top of his head. “I didn’t cry.”

Minako is almost ready to join in the teasing – until she sees the soft look on Yuuri’s face. “You’re dropping your right arm. Stop that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” says Yuuri, and then flashes a fond look at Victor. “You’re still beautiful, Victor, stop looking at yourself in the mirror and tell Minako my arm is not dropping.”

“Your arm _is_ dropping,” says Victor mournfully, but there’s a flush on his cheeks anyway. He gives his head a last pat, and then turns to look at them.

Minako is struck, once again, how well Victor wears his pregnancy. He’s still all ease and grace in his motions, even if he does seem to lose his balance a little bit as he turns. He catches himself easily on the bar over the mirror, as smoothly as a cat who’s accidentally fallen off the window ledge and is trying to pretend the fall was intentional all along.

Yuuri definitely drops his arm then. “Hey, _careful_ , you know your balance is off.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Victor assures him, still flushed, but Yuuri’s already over there, helping him to sit. “Stop hovering.”

Yuuri’s hands spring away from Victor’s arm. There’s hurt on his face, and then he bites his lip and turns back to Minako.

“Okay, sorry,” he mutters, before taking up the position she’s been bending him into again. His face isn’t passive, and Minako can still see the strange hurt in his eyes every time he determinedly doesn’t look over at Victor. “Is my arm high enough now?”

“No,” says Minako, unable to keep from glancing at Victor herself. He’s seated, one hand on his stomach where he idly rubs his skin, gaze firmly on Yuuri, looking about as wistful as she’s ever seen anyone look.

 _Interesting_ , she thinks, and moves Yuuri’s arm into the proper position.

*

“Should he even be _on_ the ice?” asks Takeshi skeptically from the boards. Victor is on his skates, slowly going in circles while Yuuko skates backwards in front of him. They’re talking animatedly about something, though Victor’s eyes continually glance down toward the ice, or at the triplets, who zoom around them, all arms and legs and stumbles.

Every time one of the girls gets a little too close to Victor, Yuuri seems to go tense. Then again, muses Takeshi, so does he. The last thing anyone wants is a Nikiforov baby born at center ice.

Even if it _would_ be oddly appropriate.

“I can either tie his skates or watch as he tries to do it himself,” says Yuuri morosely.

“See, I’d think the second option would be the better choice.”

“That’s the problem. He can still bend over enough to tie them. He just doesn’t tie them tight enough, and he ends up falling over. At least this way, he’s got them on properly.”

“And Yuuko’s with him,” says Takeshi doubtfully. “She won’t let him do anything stupid.”

Victor’s voice floated across the ice. “I heard that!”

“You were meant to!” Takeshi calls back, and Yuuri snorts his water. “You’re a better alpha than me, Katsuki-san.”

Yuuri glances at him. “Huh?”

“When we found out Yuuko was having triplets, I kind of went into alpha overdrive,” admits Takeshi.

Yuuri laughs a little. “I remember. You didn’t let her on the ice for three weeks.”

“Three – no, man. I didn’t let her back on the ice at _all_. She didn’t skate again until after the girls were born.”

Yuuri stares at him for so long, Takeshi begins to wonder what he’s not telling him.

Except looking out on the ice at his mate and three daughters, it’s… not so hard to figure it out.

“Well, damn,” he finally says.

“Sorry,” apologizes Yuuri sheepishly. “If it’s any help, she never skated alone. It was always me or one of the instructors on the ice with her, and she didn’t do much more than what Victor’s doing now. Less, really. And she really did stop a few weeks before they were born.”

Takeshi rubbing his temples. “Okay. That helps. I think.” He looks up. “I’m glad you were there, anyway. No wonder you’re so calm about Victor being on skates.”

“I’m not his alpha, though,” says Yuuri, and he’s squirming a little bit. “I can’t stop him.”

Takeshi snorts. “They’re weirdly stubborn, pregnant omegas. They go out there and tell you exactly what they want, when it’s the stupid things, like skating or ice cream or the exact temperature of their tea, but the big stuff? The stuff that really matters them? They don’t say anything, because they figure you’ll just know, right?”

Yuuri’s looking at Victor. Takeshi wonders what he’s thinking. “I guess.”

“Yuuri,” sings Victor. “Come skate with me!”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything. He sets his water bottle back down on the boards, and skates out to meet Victor. As soon as they link arms, slowly skating laps around the ice, heads tilted together, Yuuko skates back to rejoin Takeshi. She has a sweet, funny smile on her face, like she’s got a secret.

Takeshi’s almost tempted to tell her he knows at least one of them.

Instead, he stays quiet as Yuuko leans against him, her head resting on his arm. She sighs, watching them.

“They’re so sweet together,” she says. “I wish Victor wasn’t….”

Takeshi does. The girls are still zipping around them, but Victor and Yuuri are in their own little world, giggling and smiling together, Yuuri’s eyes darting between Victor’s face and his hand on his stomach.

 _Interesting_ , thinks Takeshi, and leans to kiss the top of Yuuko’s head.

“They’ll do all right,” he says, and kisses her head again.

*

“Ah, here again, Victor-san?” says Dr. Sato, and glances over at Yuuri. “And Yuuri-san, too.”

“He won’t let me go anywhere without him,” Victor complains, but he doesn’t sound particularly perturbed, and when Dr. Sato looks at Yuuri with a raised eyebrow, Yuuri flushes and shrugs a shoulder. “I told him he could practice while I’m here, but…”

“Hmm,” says Dr. Sato. “If you’re missing practice, Yuuri-san, perhaps we’ll do things in reverse order so you can leave a little earlier.”

Victor frowns. “I don’t understand?”

Dr. Sato walks over to the machine in the corner. “Normally I would save the sonogram as a treat for the end of today’s appointment, but in this case, I think we’ll do it first, if you don’t mind Yuuri being here for a peek at the baby.”

Victor’s face is a bit unreadable, but Yuuri – he looks a little bit shocked and nervous, suddenly. “I don’t mind,” says Victor softly. “If Yuuri doesn’t.”

“See the baby?” asks Yuuri. “We can… _do_ that?”

Dr. Sato chuckles. “In a way.”

It only takes a few moments to set up the machine and slather Victor’s stomach with gel.

When the image comes up on the screen, both men stop breathing.

“There it is,” says Dr. Sato, pleased.

“Salchow,” says Yuuri, awed.

Victor doesn’t say anything. Dr. Sato glances at him, and smiles to see his eyes quite a bit wetter than they’d been just a moment before.

She doesn’t miss the way he reaches and takes Yuuri’s hand. Nor does she miss the way Yuuri squeezes his fingers in response.

“Is that a Russian name?” asks Dr. Sato mildly.

Victor laughs a little. “It’s a figure skating jump. We’ll come up with another name for her.”

Neither man seems to hear the slip, and Dr. Sato glances at Yuuri again, but his eyes are focused solely on the sonogram screen.

She’s long since learned how to point out features without disturbing the expectant couples’ single-focused fascination. Feet, hands, face. Genitals, when applicable. They both take it in, awed and silent, shifting closer and closer together without seeming to realize it.

Dr. Sato reaches over and takes Yuuri’s hand, setting it down on the image wand on Victor’s stomach. “Here,” she says. “I’ll let you continue watching while I write down a few notes, and then we’ll clean up, all right?”

Yuuri looks like he can’t decide if he wants to protest, or keep looking at the screen. In the end, he goes for the latter option, and Dr. Sato is determined not to listen in as the two men whisper to each other in English.

“Look at those legs, she’s going to be the best jumper.”

“No way, see how flexible she is? Think of the spin combinations!”

“You need to start thinking of names.”

“I know. It’s… lonely. Thinking of them myself.”

“…I could… help.”

A quiet moment.

“I’d… like that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dr. Sato doesn’t want to interrupt, but she can’t hold back any longer.

“Okay, gentlemen,” she says softly. “Yuuri-san, you can go on to your practice now. I won’t keep Victor-san long.”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide. “Um… why?”

“Well,” hedges Dr. Sato. “I need to do a physical examination. It won’t take very long, but usually we don’t allow alphas to remain in the room. I know you’re not a bonded couple, but it can often be very difficult even for alphas who are just friends to see their omegas friends in such a position. We’ve learned the hard way that it’s just best for all concerned if alphas aren’t present. So I’m going to have to ask you to step—"

The change is immediate. The sweetly awed and supportive boy has gone completely, and left behind the protective, dominant, determined alpha that swiftly moves in between Dr. Sato and Victor.

“No.” Yuuri glowers at Dr. Sato, and it’s as if he’s puffed himself up, leaning forward on his toes, eyes focused on her in a narrow, aggressive gaze.

 “Yuuri,” says Victor softly, but Yuuri doesn’t respond.

“What are you going to do to them?” Yuuri demands.

Dr. Sato’s heart beats hard in her chest. There’s a scent in the room that is becoming slowly more prominent, and it’s one she recognizes all too well. An angry alpha suddenly becoming concerned about the safety of their mate and child.

 _They’re not mated_ , thinks Dr. Sato – but looking at Yuuri, remembering the whispered conversation, she’s beginning to doubt that it really matters.

“Nothing that will hurt either of them,” she says gently, holding out her hands, palms up. “Victor is entering his last month of pregnancy. I need to make sure that the cervix is reacting properly to the hormones Victor is putting out, so that he’ll be prepared for giving birth. If not, then early intervention can mean a safe, easy delivery for both he and the baby, as opposed to a delivery that will require much more medical involvement and the likelihood of complications. It won’t take more than about five minutes.”

“Will it hurt?” demands Yuuri. His eyes are flashing behind his glasses, and his mouth is a taut line.

“It’s all right, Yuuri,” says Victor, still soft, still quiet, but growing more nervous. “I’d rather a little pain now than complications later.”

“It won’t hurt at all,” Dr. Sato reassures them both. “It might be a little uncomfortable, but nothing more. And it’s for the baby,” she adds.

“Salchow,” says Yuuri.

“Salchow,” agrees Dr. Sato.

“Yuuri,” says Victor again – and this time, there’s an edge to it. He sounds almost authoritative, as if Yuuri’s a slightly overenthusiastic student, and Victor means to reprimand him.

And… it works. Yuuri snaps out of the sudden rush of alpha pheromones, and stares at Victor as if he’s been somewhere very far away.

“It’s fine,” continues Victor. “Go wait outside. I won’t be long.”

Yuuri nods, almost without thinking about it, and moves to the door, still glancing at Victor. Victor smiles, and then Yuuri closes the door behind him.

 _Interesting_ , thinks Dr. Sato, shaking just a bit, and then she turns with a smile to Victor.

And Victor – is staring at the closed door, his lower lip between his teeth, and a shell-shocked expression on his face.

 _Oh_.

“All right then,” Dr. Sato says kindly. “Victor… is there something you haven’t told me about the baby?”

*

The only person in the waiting room when the receptionist leads a dazed and still shaking Yuuri there is an older alpha, who looks up at the newcomer with a wry grin.

“New dad?” he asks the receptionist.

“Looks like,” she retorts, more amused than anything else, and still not about to divulge personal information. She sits Yuuri down on a chair and pats his shoulder. “He won’t be long. Try not to think about it, if it helps.”

Yuuri lets out a feeble laugh, and then buries his face in his hands.

After a moment, the older alpha comes over and sits next to him. “First one, eh?”

“Huh?” Yuuri glances up and stares at the older alpha. He wrings his hands together, fingers weaving in and out without him even noticing.

“Yeah, this is the tough part,” says the man, and he’s not unsympathetic. “When they boot you out and you’re not even there to hold her hand.”

“His,” says Yuuri absently.

“Want to know something, though?” says the man, leaning a little closer to Yuuri. “That feeling you get, when you leave the room? Like you’re being ripped out of the place where you’re supposed to be? That’s how you know how much they mean to you. It’s your instincts telling you they’re yours.”

Yuuri’s eyes go wide for a moment, and his hands go still.

He lets out his breath in a slow, thin line.

“Yeah,” agrees the man, and pats Yuuri on the shoulder. “You’ll do all right. You’ll see.”

*

It’s late, and most of the onsen’s guests have long since gone to bed, so when Hiroko finally finishes setting up the kitchen for the next morning’s breakfast, she’s surprised to see the flickering blue light of the television in the otherwise dark guest area.

She sighs, only slightly peeved for whoever forgot to turn it off, but as soon as she sees the two figures sitting in the middle of the room, she stops in the doorway.

_Oh._

Hiroko leans against the doorframe, trying to decide if she should slip in and turn off the television, urge them to bed, or if it’s better to let them be.

She’s not sure that she’s ever seen either of them so peaceful. Victor’s sleeping face looks so much younger, even in the pale light. The lines of worry and strain have smoothed away; his mouth is open slightly with the slightest bit of a snore, and it makes Hiroko smile.

His head is pillowed on Yuuri’s lap, and while Hiroko knows that their touches and caresses have only increased in the last few weeks, she doubts Yuuri is so comfortable to be this close to Victor when he’s awake.

It’s a shame, really, because now that he thinks no one is around to see him, he brushes his fingers through Victor’s hair, smoothing them away even as they continue to fall in his face. There’s a gentleness in his motions, caution in only that he obviously doesn’t want to wake Victor, but only make his sleep more comfortable.

And the serenity on Yuuri’s face….

Yuuri looks on Victor with such affection and caring, such awe and amazement. There’s a slight smile on his face, so small that Hiroko isn’t sure that Yuuri’s even aware of it.

She knows that look. She’s seen it so many times before, when Takeshi looks at Yuuko. When Toshiya looks at her.

Hiroko smiles, and eases away, quiet as a mouse, back down the corridor, down to the bedroom where Toshiya lays snoring.

She won’t mind the snoring tonight.

Tonight, Hiroko’s heart sings.


	6. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Six of Victuuri Week, and today's prompt is Communication. Which is good, because it's about time that these two boys _communicate_. (And that's not even an euphemism. Christophe would be so disappointed in me.)
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your comments! I am slowly working my way through answering every single one, because being able to do that is _such_ a treat, and even the simplest "this was great" gives me so much joy. 
> 
> Enjoy today's chapter! (And please, repeat after me: azriona believes in happy endings. azriona believes in happy endings. azriona believes in happy endings...)

Dr. Sato loves her chosen field of medicine. She loves her patients. She loves helping them grow their families.

It’s only sometimes she wishes they weren’t so damn _difficult_ at times.

“You have to tell him,” she tells Victor, who at least has the courtesy of being embarrassed enough that he can’t meet her eyes.

“I know,” he says, and it sounds as if he really does know it. “I haven’t figured out _how_.”

Dr. Sato sighs. “Repeat after me. ‘Yuuri-san, the baby is yours.’”

Victor smiles ruefully. “Yuuri-san, the baby is yours.”

“Wasn’t that easy?”

“Only because he’s not in the room right now.”

“Well,” says Dr. Sato pragmatically, “you could always wait until you’re in delivery. Because he’ll probably notice when the baby’s born with dark hair and an epicanthic fold.”

Victor brightens. “Do you think so?”

Dr. Sato groans.

_Why do I always get the stubborn ones?!?!_

*

Figure Skating Monthly

August 2015

IS VICTOR NIKIFOROV DEAD? Page 17

 

IS VICTOR NIKIFOROV DEAD?

By Julie Davis

Russian men’s singles figure skater Victor Nikiforov announced his intention to retire from competitive figure skating last April following his fifth consecutive gold medal at the World Figure Skating Competition, and has not been seen since.

Many of his fans are now worried that the popular and charismatic omega may have come to an untimely end.

“It’s not typical,” says Valentina Pupova, president of Nikiforov’s fan club. “He’s not the most prolific of Instagram posters, but usually we get at least one or two selfies a week from him, even over the summer. He hasn’t posted a selfie since mid-April, though, when he arrived in Hasetsu, Japan, to coach Katsuki Yuuri.”

Nikiforov relocated to Japan to coach Yuuri Katsuki, a Japanese skater known as “the alpha with the glass heart.” Katsuki, one of Japan’s strongest skaters, is popular in Japan, but not so well known on the international stage. That could change with Nikiforov’s coaching; Katsuki has always had strong presentation skills, as well as a solid foundation in dance, spins, and step sequences, whereas Nikiforov’s strengths are in his jumps and overall choreography. If Nikiforov is able to bring not only Katsuki’s jumps up to par but also revitalize his confidence, this could be the career boost Katsuki requires to win gold on an international level.

However, this is all speculation. Katsuki’s practices have been closed to the public, and while Katsuki and Nikiforov initially confirmed in April that they are working together, little has been heard from either of them since. Nikiforov’s active Instagram, once overflowing with selfies, is now filled with pictures of Hasetsu, his dog, or brief glimpses of Katsuki’s training.

“They could have been taken by anyone,” says Pupova.  “I’m not saying it’s suspicious, but… it’s definitely weird.”

“Victor Nikiforov is not dead,” says Nikiforov’s former coach, Yakov Feltsman. “His career is a different story.”

According to Feltsman, Nikiforov is still alive and well in Japan, though the two have not spoken since April.

Hasetsu, Japan, located in the Saga Prefecture in northern Kyushu, is in the southern half of the country. A largely rural area with a tourism-based economy, it sounds like it ought to be the type of place where a celebrity figure skating star would stand out, particularly since Hasetsu already boasts a figure skating star of their own and is therefore attuned to the sport.

A recent trip to Hasetsu, however, turned up nothing.

“Oh, sure, he was just here,” says Miyagi Daisuki, who runs the local gym where Katsuki is known to have a membership. “Go down the street, I think he went in that direction.”

“That direction” turns out to be a dead end.

“We see dozens of dogs every day,” says Hikari Tanaka, the town veterinarian. “I have no idea if one of them was Russian. I don’t ask dogs for their nationality.”

“Nope, we’re closed today,” says Takeshi Nishigori, owner-operator of the skating rink where Katsuki trains. “Haven’t seen him. No idea where he is. The ice melted, too, probably won’t see him for days.”

Even at the Yu-topia Katsuki, an onsen operated by Katsuki’s parents, the only trace of Nikiforov is an out-of-the-way and too-cold bathing pool marked, “Victor”.

“Old Japanese phrase for out of order,” says Toshiya Katsuki, the owner of the onsen and Yuuri Katsuki’s father. He was disinclined to answer further inquiries.

This much is certain: the world may not have seen hide nor hair of Victor Nikiforov in the last four months, but that will change soon. Due to Yuuri Katsuki’s poor performance at last year’s Japanese Nationals, he is required to requalify at the local level, and is due to appear at the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Regional Championship in September. Assuming that Nikiforov is indeed still coaching Katsuki – and that he’s still alive – he will very likely attend the event with his protégé.

It seems that the last person who’s seen Nikiforov and is willing to talk about it would be Nikiforov’s younger teammate, Yuri Plisetsky. Plisetsky saw Nikiforov in May, when he briefly trained under him in Japan. Plisetsky will make his senior circuit debut this coming season, using a short program choreographed by Nikiforov.

“He’s not dead,” says Plisetsky, before muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “But he might as well be.”

*

Everything and nothing changes, and August rolls into September.

Victor and Yuuri still talk and laugh together. They take Makkachin on walks down to the beach and sit on the sand. They go to the Ice Castle and work on Yuuri’s programs, which become better day by day. They eat dinner together, and take baths in Victor’s pool, and at the end of the day, they sit next to each other, watching mindless television before falling asleep for the night.

But now, it’s different.

Their conversations are full of love and life, small touches on their arms and shoulders and chests and backs. Their laughter is lighter, their giggles are infectious. Makkachin’s walks aren’t quite as long as they used to be, because Victor moves a little slower now, but Yuuri keeps his hand on Victor’s elbow for support, and he’s the one who runs with Makkachin on the sand, while Victor shouts encouragement and unhelpful coach-like advice.

Yuuri still ties Victor’s skates for him, but now his fingers graze along the leather at his ankles. He still radiates disapproval, but Victor’s come to expect it now and can tease a smile out of him. When Yuuri finishes, he never rises immediately; his touch lingers on Victor’s skates. It’s almost as good as a kiss.

They might as well be eating dinner alone, for all that they pay attention to anyone else. Mari huffs and teases to make Yuuri blush, and Toshiya laughs to himself and makes a show of being ignored, which sends Victor into a flurry of conversation only to be distracted by Yuuri a few minutes later.

Hiroko says nothing; she smiles and makes sure Victor’s plate is always full.

After dinner, they sit together on the couch in the family’s private rooms, close enough to touch, and watch the endless run of Japanese game shows, which make no sense to Victor, even when Yuuri tries to explain what goes on. Somehow, the night always ends with one leaning into the other, fingers idly brushing the back of another hand.

They go to bed in separate rooms still. But it’s harder and harder to say goodnight every time, and Victor sees the longing in Yuuri’s eyes, even in the dark. He’s sure Yuuri sees the longing in his, because it’s burning so hot in his chest, sometimes he can’t breathe.

It’s burning like that now as they watch a preview for a made-for-TV movie the week before the regional championship. Some terribly sappy romance about two men and an orphaned little girl, and it’s clearly the penultimate scene where the audience is meant to be in tears.

Handy, because Victor’s chest hurts and he can’t stop blinking.

_Tell him. Tell him. Tell him._

Yuuri shifts on the couch next to him. “Are you worried about next week?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s going to be press there,” says Yuuri. He sounds concerned. “I know you haven’t said anything publicly about the baby, but I don’t think you can hide her under a sweatshirt anymore.”

“I’m not worried,” says Victor. “The press can think whatever they want. I’m a little sorry, though. I wanted to wear a suit, and I don’t think I’ll fit into the ones I brought.”

His voice is low, probably because of the knot in his throat. Yuuri sits up, worry creasing his face. “Victor?”

His voice is so quiet, and Victor’s breath shakes.

“Victor, you’re _crying_.”

Victor touches his face; his fingers come away wet. “I… I’m not sure why.”

Yuuri reaches up, brushes the hair away from Victor’s face. He looks so adorably confused, and he’s warm and close, smells so comforting and familiar, and all Victor wants….

Yuuri kisses him.

_Yuuri’s kiss is sloppy with alcohol, and his hands are shaking, but they move with deliberation, without any shred of hesitancy. He slides his hands down Victor’s chest, across his flat stomach, down to his waistline and they linger, hooked over the waistband of his trousers, as if to push them off._

_“Victor – do you want--?” gasps Yuuri, urgent and close and tightly wound._

_“Yes,” gasps Victor._

It’s a soft kiss, mouth against mouth, unhurried, unquestioning. Victor is surprised and relieved and so, so desperate for Yuuri’s touch, he doesn’t want to move. When Yuuri pulls away, he follows. Yuuri’s eyes are open wide with worry and hesitation – only an inch away, still so close it’s obvious that he didn’t want to leave. Victor’s heart surges.

“Yuuri,” he whispers, pained and desperate. Yuuri smiles a little, and leans in again.

This time, the kiss is _more_. Yuuri’s hand on Victor’s arm as he rises to his knees next to him. One hand cradling Victor’s cheek, turning his face upward as Yuuri rises. Yuuri’s lips as they open, his tongue licking against Victor’s lips and teeth.

Victor floats.

_They shed their clothes in a path along the floor, from the door to the bed, giggling a little as they’re temporarily stumped by buttons and zippers and the utter ridiculousness of hooks and eyes. Yuuri kisses each freckle as they’re revealed, and Victor finds a constellation of moles on Yuuri’s back that demand the same treatment._

_They’re on the bed. It’s not big enough, and at the same time, it’s their entire world. When Yuuri touches Victor, he shudders and cries out, and falls back onto the pillows._

The television is background noise: Victor’s heart dances in his chest. Yuuri kisses him, and kisses him, and his hands are warm against Victor’s skin. Yuuri kisses the tears on Victor’s cheeks, and returns to his lips, tasting of salt. Victor sucks it greedily, and glories in the whine in the back of Yuuri’s throat. It sends a rush of liquid pleasure through his skin, and Victor’s head falls back. Yuuri kisses along his jawline, down the long line of his neck, to his collarbone.

Victor’s fingers find the soft hairs at the nape of Yuuri’s neck, where his hair is the shortest. They curl a little around his fingers, and Yuuri’s breath comes in quick gasps.

_Victor is wet with slick. And warm – so warm, but Yuuri’s warm too. He touches Victor’s hips, fingers soft and careful, and then more forceful with need._

_“Victor?” he asks, a little shaky. “I… I need….”_

_Victor sits up a little, supporting himself with one shaking arm, and holds Yuuri’s cheek with the other. Yuuri turns into it, kissing the palm._

_“Take it,” whispers Victor, and kisses him. “I want you.”_

_“Yes,” sighs Yuuri, relieved, and he does._

Yuuri can’t seem to get enough of Victor’s skin – and that’s good, because Victor has been craving Yuuri’s touch for months. It’s an old shirt, the buttons slide out of their holes with hardly any effort as Yuuri kisses down Victor’s chest, sucking here, tasting there, and then Yuuri’s hands on are Victor’s baby bump. The air is full of breath, but Yuuri slows, resting his cheek against the tight skin.

Victor strokes Yuuri’s hair and tries not to shake.

Tell him. Tell him. _Tell him._

_“Yuuri, please,” groans Victor, when Yuuri hesitates above him. “I need you to fuck me.”_

_As if he was waiting for permission – and Yuuri moves, leaning down to kiss Victor’s mouth, whimpers in the back of his throat. He’s shaking, and then…._

_Yuuri cries out and his eyes cross when he slides into Victor. Victor moans, turning his head to the side so he can kiss Yuuri’s fingers where they’re threaded through his own in a loose grasp._

_It’s good. It’s impossibly good, and fully seated, Yuuri pauses, breathing in the scent on Victor’s neck, shaking with sweat on his shoulders._

_Victor kisses him. “Yuuri? Are you—?”_

_“You’re beautiful,” whispers Yuuri, and begins to move._

Yuuri’s sigh is almost pained.

“Yuuri?” whispers Victor, stroking his hair.

“I know I shouldn’t,” whispers Yuuri.

Victor closes his eyes against the sudden beating of his heart. It’s hard to speak. “Shouldn’t…”

Yuuri strokes the skin on the side of Victor’s stomach. “Shouldn’t wish she was mine.”

Victor chokes back the sudden laugh and closes his eyes. The sound he makes is almost a sob.

“I know she’s not. It’s impossible, we never even spoke before you came here. And I know she’s got another father somewhere else, and I don’t know why you’re here and not with him, and I feel _horrible_ , because maybe you love him, but… I still wish…”

Victor’s heart is no longer in his chest. He doesn’t know where it is, how it’s gone. All he knows is that there’s an empty place, and he could be drowning. It would explain the rush of sound in his ears.

_Yuuri sighs in the quiet dark. Victor’s fingers play idly with his hair, and Yuuri traces shapes on Victor’s chest, every so often stopping to giggle. He pushes his nose into Victor’s skin to smother them._

_“Stay,” murmurs Victor._

Victor shifts on the couch, pulls Yuuri up from where he’s crouched so they can look at each other. Yuuri’s face is a strange mix of kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks, eyes that are confused and red and focused on Victor.

_Tell him._

Victor swallows. “You… you don’t remember?”

Yuuri stares at him, his forehead wrinkling and smoothing. There’s something going through his head, but what it is – Victor has no idea.

“After the banquet in Sochi,” prompts Victor. “You… we….”

Yuuri doesn’t say Victor’s name, so much as he mouths it, so softly that it can barely be heard. “ _Victor_.”

One of Yuuri’s hands is still on Victor’s stomach. It’s trembling.

It’s now or never.

_Tell him._

Victor puts his hand over Yuuri’s, and the trembling stops. He presses lightly, knowing that Yuuri is cradling their baby’s head.

“She’s yours, Yuuri. She’s yours. You… you really don’t remember?” Victor’s voice breaks.

Yuuri’s mouth is moving as he tries to form the words. His eyes are damp with tears, and his eyes widen and squint in turn.

“I…”

Victor can’t even _breathe_.

“I wasn’t dreaming?” whispers Yuuri. “It… you and me… it really happened? I…”

Yuuri pulls back a little, and Victor’s about to lunge after him when he realizes that Yuuri’s only pulled back to look at their hands on his stomach.

_“Stay,” murmurs Victor._

_“It’s my room,” says Yuuri, giggling. His head pounds with dehydration. He can feel the last fuzzy stages of alcohol fade, and he smiles at Victor, already mostly asleep next to him._

_Beautiful Victor. Wonderful Victor. His Victor. Even if it’s only for one night._

_“You can stay, though,” he whispers, just in time to see Victor smile before their eyes close._

_They fall asleep in each other’s arms._

Yuuri is still trying to find the words.

“You smelled so familiar… I couldn’t figure out why, and then your scent was changing, and I thought… I don’t remember anything about the banquet. I was so upset about losing, and there was so much champagne, and…”

Victor’s heart twists – but there’s a strange sense of growing unease, too. “You… were drinking?”

Yuuri glances up. “I don’t remember the banquet. The last thing I remember was sitting in the corner, happy to be ignored.”

Victor’s eyes go wide. “You… you were… Yuuri, how much did you have to drink?”

“I don’t know. Enough, I guess.”

Victor pulls back, his mind reeling.  But Yuuri keeps going, oblivious to Victor’s increasing distress. “When I woke up in my hotel room the next morning, I thought Celestino had brought me back. But… there were these flashes. Of… us together. Except I couldn’t remember talking to you at all, so… I thought there were just a dream.”

Victor can’t speak.

Yuuri reaches up and after a moment of hesitation, cups Victor’s cheek. His breaths are coming faster now, and the pain is still in his eyes. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“No,” whispers Victor.

Yuuri’s eyes light up a little. Hope, and a smile on the edge of his lips. “Not a dream,” he repeats, so full of wonder – and he leans in to kiss Victor softly on the lips.

Victor pushes him away. He wants to laugh, or cry, but Yuuri is kissing him, Yuuri is _happy_ , how can Yuuri be happy when Victor…?

“Yuuri, I’m sorry,” Victor blurts out. “You were drunk. I didn’t realize. I should have realized. I shouldn’t have gone with you into your room. I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

But Yuuri is shaking his head. “No, Victor, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“We danced. You were so happy, Yuuri – you tied your tie around your head and challenged Yura to a dance-off. Even you and Christophe—"

Yuuri groans, laughing, and covers his face with his hands. “Oh, _no_. I didn’t.”

“You _did_. I have pictures!”

Yuuri shakes his head. “But – I checked online afterwards! I figured if I’d done anything stupid, it’d be on Facebook or Instagram or YouTube.”

“How can you forget all of that but remember _us_?” demands Victor.

“Maybe the alcohol was wearing off by then? If I’d gone straight to sleep, I might not remember anything at all. I don’t know. I’m glad, though.” Yuuri smiles at him. “I guess it’s kind of hard to forget your first time.”

Victor’s brain stops working. “Your… first…”

“Yes?” He’s cautious now – and Victor can see Yuuri’s expression turn worried and anxious. “Victor. Please… say something.”

Victor’s emotions, already on a knife’s edge, are mixed up. Confusion, guilt, horror – _anger_ , and he has no idea which one is at the forefront. “How… how are you so _calm_ about this!?! You were drunk. You were a virgin. I took… I took advantage of you. And now….”

Victor covers his face with his hands. Yuuri’s hands are there, in an instant, to pull them away.

“Victor, please. Look at me, _please_.”

Victor knocks his hands away. Anger – _definitely_ anger.

But not with Yuuri. With himself. “No.  _No_. I’m _mad_ , okay! I should have walked away – I should never have stayed with you—"

_“Wow, careful,” laughs Victor, as Yuuri stumbles in the hallway just outside his room. Yuuri giggles, and stumbles again, this time accidentally pushing Victor against the wall._

_The mood changes, grows sweet and molten around them._

_“Hi,” whispers Yuuri, and if he was drunk before, he doesn’t seem quite so bad now. His eyes slide into focus, his chest and shoulders expand as he breathes in Victor’s scent._

_Victor can smell Yuuri – and he breathes in so deeply, he thinks he’ll crack._

_“Hi,” he whispers back._

Victor tries to pull himself together. It’s hard, _so_ hard to calm his erratic breathing, to push down his immediate urge to reach out and _grab_ Yuuri, hold him tight and realize what a horrible, horrible thing Victor has done to him.

Victor doesn’t understand why Yuuri hasn’t run. Why he’s still sitting there, close enough that Victor can feel the warmth from his skin. Looking at him with such calmness.

“You’re the alpha with a glass heart, Yuuri,” says Victor softly. “How is it not broken right now? Why aren’t you the one having a breakdown?”

_Yuuri kisses Victor in the hallway just outside his room. There’s only the slightest hesitation beforehand – but the kiss itself is sure. When he draws away, Victor’s eyes cross a little bit._

_“Stay with me,” says Yuuri, bold and assertive and all the things he can never be without alcohol coursing through his veins._

_And Victor…_

_“Yes,” he says, as if Yuuri has thrown him a lifeline._

“Because I already did,” says Yuuri. “Weeks ago, when I realized... I care for you, Victor. So much. I care for both of you. I didn’t think I’d ever get to keep you. You were only here because you needed a safe place to have Salchow—"

Victor shakes his head. “Yuuri, that’s not—"

“I know it’s not,” Yuuri breaks in. “But until a few minutes ago, that’s what I thought. I’m telling you, you didn’t take advantage of me, Victor. And you didn’t take anything from me that I wasn’t happy to give. Please, _please_ believe me. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with _you_ ,” says Victor, miserable. Yuuri lets out a shaking breath, and leans close, resting their foreheads together as he cups Victor’s cheek. His thumb moves back and forth across Victor’s skin, catching a little on the stubble and the slightly tacky dried tears.

“Good,” whispers Yuuri.

“But…” Victor reaches up and grabs Yuuri’s hand, holding it tightly for a moment before slowly drawing it away. “Yuuri, it’s… I thought I was the one who’d have to do the forgiving for the mistakes we made. For this mess we’ve made for ourselves. Not the other way around.”

Yuuri goes still. “You… you think Salchow is a _mess_?” His voice is tight and almost cold.

“No, but—"

“You think what we did was a _mistake_?”

“You can’t tell me you _want_ to be a father, Yuuri. You’re at the peak of your career, you’re going to take the world by storm, and I’m _old_ —"

“You’re _mine_ ,” says Yuuri, and now _he’s_ the one who sounds angry, his voice catching as if he’s ready to cry. “You and Salchow. That’s all that matters to me. Why can’t you understand that?”

“But—"

“ _Shut up_.”

It’s an angry kiss, lips pressed harshly to lips, tongue demanding and seeking entry. Victor resists only for a moment, because it’s too _much_ , so fast, and when he opens his mouth, he’s lost to the sudden rush of Yuuri’s kisses ---

Which are angry and rushed for only a split second more. Yuuri’s hands cradle Victor’s cheeks, and his mouth is soft and gentle, despite the insistence. He settles himself next to Victor, careful to hold himself close but not pressing, and Victor grabs hold of his arms like a lifeline.

When Yuuri pulls away, Victor takes a moment to catch his breath, to open his eyes and see Yuuri so close, brown eyes focused on his.

“You want forgiveness, I’ll give it you,” says Yuuri. “You want to forgive me, I’ll accept it. But don’t say what we did was a mistake. And don’t call our baby a mess.”

Victor can’t speak. His mouth is dry and his heart pounds painfully in his chest.

But Yuuri is there, Yuuri _wants_ to be there, and Victor’s doubt and guilt and horror… will take a backseat for now.

Yuuri might forgive him. Victor’s not sure if he can forgive himself – but that’s _his_ problem, not Yuuri’s.

“Okay,” he says. It’s not okay. Of course it’s not. Not when Victor is wracked with guilt he didn’t expect, when he feels like his entire world has turned upside-down.

The night in Sochi hurts to remember now. Victor’s not sure how that happened.

And still, Yuuri smiles. He’s so beautiful when he smiles, even when his eyes are wet with tears.

“Okay,” replies Yuuri, and rests his head on Victor’s shoulder, as Victor’s arms automatically circle him in a gentle hug. Yuuri’s breaths slow, and he pushes his face into Victor’s neck, breathing in his scent.

_There. I told him._

“I’m going to win gold for you both,” says Yuuri.

Victor breathes in Yuuri’s scent. It’s calming, as it always is.

_Now I have to figure out how to live with what he’s told me._

“I can’t wait,” he says.


	7. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Seven of Victuuri Week. For today's prompt, I'm using Promises. 
> 
> I'm playing a little bit with the official timeline here - in the show, the Regional Championship lasts two days, but here, I'm making it one. This is the O'verse, weird stuff happens, let's just go with it.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Victor wakes the morning of the regional competition, it’s to the gentle twist of the baby and the heavy weight of Yuuri’s arm on his chest.

He lies still for a long moment, eyes still closed. It’s uncomfortable to lie on his back; Victor’s not even sure how he ended up in that position but it was obviously so long ago that he can feel each individual organ as it aches. Shifting might wake Yuuri, though, and he listens to Yuuri breathe as he reaches up with one hand to rest on Yuuri’s arm. He turns his head before opening his eyes, so that the first thing he sees is Yuuri’s face, soft in sleep, hair askew and sticking up a little at the back.

There’s another twist, and a twinge as the baby tries to wiggle in the now-tight space. Usually it feels as if the baby’s pushing up against an elastic balloon – with Victor as the balloon. It’s never unpleasant, even if it’s a bit uncomfortable, but this?

Victor’s hand drifts down to his stomach. “Stop that, Salchow,” he says fondly in Russian under his breath.

“Hmm.” Yuuri shifts next to him, and when Victor looks at him again, his eyes are blinking open. “Is it morning?”

“Yes, too early. Go back to sleep.”

Yuuri buries his nose in Victor’s shirt for a moment and breathes deep, as if he’s trying to scent him but is unwilling to move up to his neck. “You’re still speaking in Russian, Victor.”

Victor chuckles once, and now it’s just too uncomfortable to bear. He rolls to his side, and Yuuri shifts backwards to give him space. “I said go back to sleep. Both of you.”

“Mmm.” Yuuri brings his hands up to entwine their fingers together. “Salchow’s quiet this morning.”

“Dr. Sato says she won’t move much now, it’s too snug.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything. His eyes are closed again as he drifts up from sleep. Victor goes back to thinking, because it might be his last chance to do it for a while.

Yuuri’s forgiven him. Knowing that somehow makes it easier for Victor to breathe, and even Salchow seems to be happier, settling and calming lower in Victor’s stomach. How Yuuri can forgive him, Victor still doesn’t understand, and he’s not entirely sure he’s ready to accept Yuuri’s forgiveness – but it doesn’t seem as if Yuuri is giving him much of a choice.

Then again, it’s not as if Victor’s out-of-whack hormones are letting him do anything but accept what Yuuri offers. The closer Victor’s due date approaches – just another week away – the more Victor wants to settle in, slow down, surround himself by familiar objects and smells and people. Even going as far as the Ice Castle is exhausting now, when all Victor really wants is his bed, and his bath, and Yuuri in both of them.

If he said as much to Yuuri, that’s all they would do. But though Victor wants to remain quiet, he also wants what he’s promised Yuuri: a winning season, and that starts with the regional championships.

_I have to give that to you. I have to make up what I took from you_ , thinks Victor, watching as Yuuri slowly starts to wake up in earnest.

It’s obvious, in retrospect, how unnatural Yuuri’s morning in Sochi had been. Now that they’ve spent the last few days in the same bed, Victor realizes how badly he’d interpreted Yuuri’s confusion. Yuuri’s not a morning person – but he’s not quite so displaced as he’d been in Sochi. He’s himself, if not entirely alert, and when he smiles, there’s no hint of uncertainty.

Shyness, definitely. That Yuuri can still be shy… it makes Victor want to hold him closer.

“Ready for today?” asks Yuuri softly. “To go back into the world?”

“I’m the one who should be asking you,” says Victor, feigning a lightness he doesn’t quite feel. “All I have to do is stand there and frown once in a while.”

Yuuri’s eyes crinkle. “I hope I don’t make you frown at all.”

“Land your quad, and you won’t.”

Yuuri snorts. “Are you sure you know how to coach me?”

“Not a clue,” says Victor honestly.

*

The press notices immediately. It’s evident by the way none of them move after the first cry. “It’s Victor Nikiforov! He’s here! And he’s…. _oh my god_.”

Yuuri had suggested sunglasses and a hat, or one of his father’s oversized coats. “Maybe they won’t recognize you.”

“They’re going to notice sometime,” said Victor.

It’s not a suit – but at least it’s not sweats, either. Nicely tailored pants, a respectable button-down shirt, and a jacket that Victor already plans to burn when it’s no longer the only jacket that goes around his middle.

_Well_ , he thinks ruefully as he finally hears the click of a camera going off, which is quickly followed by a tsunami of additional clicks from all directions, _at least I’ll be able to wear the nicer suits in Beijing and Moscow._

“I’ll go check in,” says Yuuri, glancing at the press. “Your ISU credentials should get you inside to the skaters’ lounge. The press can’t bother you there.”

“No, I think I’ll get it over with,” says Victor. There’s a jumpy feeling in his chest that won’t settle. Even in the car on the hour-long ride, he was feeling restless, and the idea of holing up in a windowless room with a bunch of other staring skaters and their coaches, all too nervous to approach him, is the last thing he wants to do.

At least the scrutiny from the press won’t be _veiled_ curiosity.

Then again… this is the _Japanese_ press.

“Victor! How was your summer?”

Victor blinks. “It was very good. A little different than what I expected nine months ago, but very… educational.”

“How do you like Japan?”

“I love Japan, everyone has been very kind. The food is delicious, even if there are certain things my omegologist refuses to let me eat.”

“Do you think Katsuki Yuuri is ready for today’s regional competition?”

Victor wonders what they’d do if he told them that he and Yuuri had discussed his programs in bed the night before. Probably ignore that, too. “I believe you are going to see a very different Katsuki Yuuri today. I hope you’ll enjoy his performance as much as I do.”

He resists the urge to put his hands on his stomach with that one. It’s one thing to not-quite-announce his pregnancy to the press. It’s another to name Yuuri as the father, before they’ve even really discussed how Yuuri feels about the world knowing. It’s not as though they’re bonded, or have even considered the future beyond Salchow’s birth.

_The press will figure it out, though. I should have thought of that._

Victor’s still not sure what Yuuri told his parents – only that when he woke up the morning after telling Yuuri, it was to Hiroko kissing his cheeks multiple times, before going into a stream of Japanese clearly aimed at the baby. Toshiya hasn’t stopped smiling, and Mari bursts into laughter and shoves her brother every chance she gets.

Their forgiveness is easy to accept. Yuuri’s means so much more, and Victor doesn’t know what to do with it.

By the time Victor rejoins Yuuri, he’s vaguely annoyed at the press for not asking the questions he really wanted to answer.

“Well?” asks Yuuri.

“They pretended not to notice,” says Victor, disgruntled.

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, they’re noticing now.”

Victor whips around, just in time to see the entire press junket staring at them both, before turning away as if embarrassed to be caught.

He sighs. “Let’s go in and find out the skate order, okay?”

_And maybe find someone who is uncouth enough to ask me what all the rest of them want to know._

*

Japan Sports Network @JpnSports 14 minutes ago

Victor Nikiforov arrives at Regional Championships, with Katsuki Yuuri and “friend” in tow. See picture below!

1.7m likes, 532K comments

@sktrgurrrrrl OMG IS HE PREGNANT?

@nikisbigstfan THAT IS DEFINITELY PREGNANT ::eggplant::

@nikiforprez Wait – if he’s THAT pregnant, it means he was pregnant at World’s. SHOULD HE HAVE BEEN DOING ALL THOSE JUMPS???

@sktrgurrrrrl does anyone know if @valentina_p is awake yet? She needs to see this.

@nikiforprez SHE JUST WOKE UP, I’VE BEEN TEXTING HER FOR AN HOUR. I THINK SHE’S STILL SCREAMING.

 @valentina_p @NikiforovFans congratulate Victor on his impending arrival! What a very exciting time for him! We wish him all the best!

(Private message from @valentina_p to @nikiforprez: O. M. GGGGGGGGGGGGG.)

*

Twitter crashes approximately one hour later.

*

With only four skaters in the men’s singles division, it’s easy enough to finish the entire competition by the end of the day. A little unusual, and despite Yuuri’s stamina, Victor can’t help but worry that he’ll be worn out by the time he needs to skate his free.

It doesn’t help that the breakfast he’d managed to force down isn’t sitting well on his stomach. Victor’s head has a peculiar ache – not quite a headache, not quite an ice pick going through his brain, but somewhere in between.

And he has to pee _again_.

He can’t find Yuuri to tell him he’s going to the toilets, but he can’t wait any longer, either.

The restrooms are empty, and far too warm for comfort. Victor locks himself in a stall, and leans against the door, pressing his overheated face to the relatively cool walls.

_Nothing_ feels right. Maybe if he just sits for a moment….

The pain comes on so suddenly that Victor cries out in shock. His hands immediately grip under his stomach, where he feels everything _ripple_ , as if he’s being wrung through a vise from the top of his chest down to his knees.

_Oh, no. Not now. Not today. Please, Salchow, stay where you are!_

The contraction ends, leaving Victor gasping for breath. There’s sweat on his forehead, and his hands and legs shake, but he manages to stumble out of the stall and over to the sinks, where he splashes his face with cold water.

He looks in the mirror. He’s gone pale, except for the redness in his cheeks. He takes a few deep breaths. The pain has faded now, though it still feels a little like his muscles are already anticipating the next one.

“Wow,” he says softly. “Okay. Okay. Lots of time left. Just a few hours. Everything’s fine.”

He rests his hand on his stomach. “Okay, Salchow. I know you want to see your father skate, but coming out now isn’t going to make that happen. So you stay put, and I promise you’ll see him skate soon, all right? Deal? Good. No being born until after he’s done competing today.”

There’s no response, not that Victor expected one.

“Good,” he says.

The moment he steps outside of the bathroom, Yuuri is there.

“Where were you, I was getting worried!” exclaims Yuuri. “We’re about to begin the short program—"

“I’m sorry, you know Salchow uses my bladder as a pillow,” says Victor, as cheerfully as he can manage. Yuuri doesn’t appear mollified; he’s still frowning and looking suspicious. “Are you ready? Let’s go. Which way to the ice?”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” asks Yuuri, grabbing his hand. “You’re pale.”

“I’m fine. I’m working on my frown. Let’s go, you need to warm up properly if you’re going to land that quad like you promised this morning.”

Victor starts walking, hoping Yuuri will fall in behind him.

“Victor? The ice is the other way.”

“Right,” says Victor, and comes to complete stop before slowly turning around and heading in the opposite direction.

It would be so much more effective with a sharp turn – but considering his lack of balance recently, he’s not going to risk falling. No way is he going to give Salchow an excuse to continue her movement now.

He gets a good look at Yuuri’s expression as he passes him, though. There’s something about the way his eyes are narrowed, watching Victor walk….

_Nope. He doesn’t know. We’re good. Everything’s fine._

Victor keeps walking.

*

Victor looks terrible, and Yuuri can’t concentrate on anything but the way he wants to take Victor by the hand and march him straight back home.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” insists Victor. “Maybe some water. Is Minako still getting lunch? You need to keep up your energy for the second half of your program. Minami is staring at your ass again. Are you sure he’s a beta?”

“I’m sure he’s a high school student,” retorts Yuuri, wondering why Victor is so prickly. Maybe his stumble after the quad Sal in his short program, but Yuuri’s prickly about that himself. Even if he is sitting at first place by a wide margin – he could have landed it, he knows it.

_Stupid, to be taking that jump so seriously. It’s not like we’d actually call her that._

_Still. I don’t think I’ll ever jump it again without thinking about her_.

“Minako-sensei wants to know if sandwiches are all right.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat the energy bar, you have to eat something.”

“Anything,” says Victor testily. “I need to pee.”

Yuuri groans in frustration and watches Victor hobble to the toilets again.

There’s something about the way he walks…

And then Victor stops, halfway down the corridor, leans on one hand pressed to the wall for a moment, shoulders squared, head held stiff…

Yuuri sucks in a breath – but Victor moves again before Yuuri can leap up to run to him.

Yuuri’s mind goes into a blissful blank – not unlike the day in the doctor’s office, when he’d nearly gone feral trying to protect Victor and Salchow. He goes through the motions of giving Minako their order, talking to the press, reading the scores from the morning’s short programs. He talks to one of the other competitors, lets Minami talk at him about… _something_. Given the way Minami’s coach looks ready to kill the kid, Yuuri doubts he’d even follow the rambling, over-enthusiastic conversation if he _was_ thinking straight.

He can’t stop watching Victor pick at his lunch while Minako and Takeshi talk about the triplets, which at least is a conversation he isn’t expected to participate in.

_Okay. Okay. He’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t he? I mean, it’s not like Victor to keep things bottled up._

_Who am I kidding?!? Victor didn’t tell me he was pregnant until he was nearly six months along!_

_Should I let him just keep pretending nothing’s wrong? Or should I say something? I don’t know what he’d want me to do!_

“Yuuri,” says Victor, as Minami and Takeshi squabble over who should clean up the lunch debris. “Isn’t it time to change into your free skate costume? I want a chance to see it properly before you go out.”

“You haven’t seen it yet?” asks Minako.

“Victor doesn’t get _all_ the surprises,” says Yuuri, as pointedly as he can.

If Victor hears what Yuuri doesn’t say, though, he doesn’t react. Instead, he just smiles brightly. “I can’t wait!”

Yuuri grabs Takeshi’s arm as he goes. “Does Victor look all right to you?”

Takeshi looks at Victor, who looks lost in his own world, eyes closed, oblivious to the action around him. “You don’t think…”

“I do,” says Yuuri, and his heart flips over. “I shouldn’t skate. I should take him straight to the hospital. This is a terrible idea.”

“Don’t you have to skate today if you want to be in the Grand Prix?”

“Does that _matter_?”

Takeshi grabs Yuuri by both arms. “Does it…? Are you _serious_? When Yuuko went into labor, she made sure the entire prefecture knew about it. If Victor’s not saying anything, it’s because he _wants_ you to skate today. You have to trust Victor to know his body best. Besides, labor lasts for about a thousand years. You’ll still be waiting for this kid to show up tomorrow morning, probably. Go out there and skate and when you’re done, _then_ you can drag him to the hospital, if he doesn’t ask to be dragged first.”

Yuuri takes a shaking breath. “Okay. I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Just go get into the damn Grand Prix, or he’ll never let any of us hear the end of it.”

*

Yuuri skates last, which means he has plenty of time to watch Victor as he stretches, and the earbuds playing his warm-up music mean he doesn’t need to fear that Victor will interrupt him.

Victor continues to look terrible. He’s pale, but there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He sits back as the others compete, eyes closed, breathing so steadily that it’s clear he’s concentrating on each inhale and exhale.

And every so often – his hands clench, and he goes so still that Yuuri finds himself holding his breath along with him.

“It looks beautiful on you,” said Victor, when Yuuri came out in his costume. And Yuuri has no doubt he means it – Victor’s eyes say it all. But his voice is so oddly strained and tight, and when Victor runs the chapstick over Yuuri’s lips, his thumb is trembling.

_Forget it! I can’t do this! Why isn’t he saying something?_

“Victor—" whispers Yuuri, almost pleading.

There’s a fearful flash in Victor’s eyes, and Yuuri thinks that Victor knows that he knows.

And then the fear is gone, and Victor pulls Yuuri in for a hug.

Yuuri can hear the cameras clicking around them.

“Go out and skate your best,” whispers Victor. “I’ll be waiting.”

_All right, Victor. We’ll do it your way. For the next four minutes._

“Don’t take your eyes off me,” says Yuuri, and skates out to center ice.

He closes his eyes, and bows his head, waiting for the music to begin.

_You knew about Salchow when you choreographed this piece for me, Victor. I didn’t, not until last week. It’s not just about me, is it?_

The music starts, and Yuuri begins to move.

_I wish I remembered more of the banquet. If I spoke to you first, or if you spoke to me. I wish I remembered the dance-off with Yurio, or the way you felt in my arms as we spun around the floor._

_If I hadn’t had so much to drink, maybe I’d remember those things. But if I hadn’t had that much – I might not have been brave enough to do them._

_It’s not the way I’d recommend meeting someone… but I’m glad I met you because of it._

His first jump – a quad-triple combination that somehow becomes a quad-double.

_I’m too stiff. I was always too stiff, though. I never let anyone even close to me, before you. And this part of the program is supposed to be about the way I skated before you, Victor, isn’t it? So maybe that double’s more appropriate than we thought._

_But if I want the points… I have to ignore your advice, and take a chance._

_Well, that’s appropriate too, isn’t it? You showed up at my door in April, right when I was at my lowest. You took a chance and came to me, even when you thought I was ignoring you. And now look where we are. Look what we’re going to become._

The music shifts, and Yuuri stretches out his arms as he enters the second half of the program. He can feel the exhaustion creep up – but that’s not what fills his mind.

_Oh God. You’re in labor. We’re going to be parents by the end of the day._

_What are we still doing here, Victor? You should be at the hospital! We should be at home, someone should be boiling water, I should be bringing you ice chips—_

_Damn! I missed the jump. I have to stop rushing through this. The music won’t go any faster just because I’m impatient to meet Salchow! But I am_ _impatient. How can you stand there so calmly watching me, when you’ve got to be in so much pain? You’re so strong – I know I’m an alpha, but you’re stronger than I’ll ever be._

_Here it comes, the last jump – I’m so close to finishing! We’re so close to meeting her!_

_Victor – I can see you. You’re crying. Why are you crying?_

_All of a sudden, I am so, so scared. What if I can’t do this? What if you made the wrong choice, coming for me? What if the reason you’re still holding me at arm’s length is because you don’t think I can be a parent to Salchow?_

_Wha---_

Yuuri sees the wall the moment before he crashes into it. He can hear his nose crunch – but he gets back on his feet again.

_I have to keep going. I have to finish this! I can see you laughing at me, Victor. If I can make you laugh when you’re already crying, maybe we’ll be all right._

_We’ll be all right, won’t we, Victor?_

The crowd is shouting, cheering, screaming.

Yuuri only has eyes for Victor – and when he reaches out to Yuuri, Yuuri takes off on his skates as fast as he can go.

He skids to a stop at the boards, and Victor catches him in a hug.

“Hospital,” says Yuuri firmly.

“It’s only a nosebleed,” says Victor, laughing. “Bleed on this jacket all you like. I’m going to burn it before Beijing anyway.”

Yuuri grabs hold of Victor’s shoulders and pushes his away. “Victor. You’re in _labor_.”

Victor’s eyes go wide. “Wow. I thought I’d done a better job of hiding that. Can we at least wait until you’ve stood on the podium? I promised Salchow.”

Yuuri cradles Victor’s head in his hands. “Victor,” he says gently. “You can’t put it off any longer. It’s time.”

Victor takes a long, shaking breath. “I know. But… you should do it. Please.”

“It’s that important to you?”

Victor nods.

“Okay,” says Yuuri. “And then we go.”

“Yes,” says Victor.

*

The drive back to Hasetsu is too tense and hurried for them to talk, and try as he might, Yuuri can’t convince Victor to go anywhere closer.

“She’s not going to be born for hours yet,” he insists, and he’s stubborn enough about it that Takeshi ignores Yuuri too, though he at least concedes to drive them straight to the hospital.

“If you have this baby in my car, Yuuko is going to make you babysit the triplets,” he warns, and Victor’s mouth drops open.

“I’m going to have a _newborn_!”

“Good point. Then the triplets are going to babysit _you_ ,” amends Takeshi, and Victor tries in vain to cross his legs.

“Here,” says Minako, and hands Victor some towels. “Sit on these.”

“Why?” asks Yuuri.

“Don’t ask,” chorus the other three.

The check-in process is smooth, but what with nurses and doctors and finding a room and the flurry whenever Victor has a contraction – there’s not much time to talk at all.

“ _How_ long have you been in labor?” asks Dr. Sato, exasperated, when she finally comes into the room. Victor’s just coming out of a contraction, but brightens as soon as she comes in.

“No idea,” says Victor cheerfully. “An hour?”

“Try six,” says Yuuri. “Maybe seven? See, this is why you need to talk to me.”

“I do talk to you.”

“Victor. I half expected to come off the ice after my free skate to see you holding a baby.”

“So little faith in me,” sighs Victor. “Dr. Sato, I demand Yuuri be removed from this room. He has very little faith in my ability to be truthful.”

“That’s because he’s clever,” says Dr. Sato dryly.

“You also. Go away.”

“Good, I need coffee,” says Dr. Sato grimly before disappearing in search of caffeine.

“I think she used to like her job once,” says Victor glumly.

“And then she met us,” agrees Yuuri, and he leans against the bed. “Victor—"

“Ice chips,” says Victor quickly. “Can I have ice chips? That’s a thing, isn’t it? Or a lollypop? Cherry, I like cherry, your chapstick is cherry. You could just kiss me.”

Yuuri sighs. _He knows I’m not angry with him, that I don’t think he did anything wrong. And he still acts skittish every time I bring it up, as if he doesn’t believe that I won’t suddenly decide he’s at fault._ “Victor—”

“We haven’t discussed names yet,” says Victor quickly. “I thought maybe Kira? It’s a Russian name that means _beloved_. There’s several meanings in Japanese – glittery, shiny—"

“Or death,” says Yuuri dryly, and Victor looks back down at the blanket, dejected. He starts to pick at the fabric.

“Maybe not then.”

Yuuri watches him for a moment, and immediately wants to take back the words. _At least he’s trying. Even if he’s avoiding what we really need to discuss._

“We… we could call her Soshi,” he suggests cautiously. “It’s kind of close to _Sochi_ , and it means blessing or happiness in Japanese. There’s a Russian name _Sasha_ , isn’t there? That’s pretty close.”

Victor shakes his head. “Sasha is a boy’s name.”

“Oh,” says Yuuri, deflating.

“We could just stick to Salchow.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “We’d have to figure out how to spell it. You have to use specific characters for names, or you can’t register the baby for citizenship.” He pauses. “I guess we didn’t talk about that, either. If she’ll be Japanese, or Russian.”

“Both, of course,” says Victor immediately.

Yuuri reaches for Victor’s hand on the blanket and holds it. “Okay. Both.”

“Yuuri—" Victor begins, but his hand tightens around Yuuri’s suddenly.

Yuuri doesn’t need to look at the monitors to know Victor’s having another contraction. He lets Victor squeeze his hand, leans in close to brush his hair back. He’s not even fully aware of the words he’s whispering, half English, half Japanese.

The contraction ends – but Victor doesn’t let go, and doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t understand why you’re here with me.”

Yuuri’s heart contracts. He buries his face in Victor’s hair. It still smells of the ice rink, and Yuuri breathes it in deep.

“I’ve wanted you my entire life,” Yuuri says, his voice muffled by Victor’s hair. “Don’t you dare take this from me now that I have it.”

Victor lets out a hollow laugh. “You… you thought you were dreaming. You don’t even remember _talking_ to me, much less agreeing to have sex with me.”

Yuuri shakes his head, and moves down until he can see Victor’s face. “Is that what you think? Victor – I _remember_ that. I’m the one who invited _you_ in. It was _my room_. Do you really think I would have let you in if I didn’t want you there?”

Victor closes his eyes and doesn’t say anything, but he does lean forward until he’s right up against Yuuri, breathing in his scent.

“You couldn’t have known what you were asking.”

“Victor,” says Yuuri, with some exasperation. “I might have been a virgin, but I wasn’t a kid. And Phichit Chulanont was my roommate in Detroit. Trust me. You don’t get sexiled twice a week for two years running and not have a _clue_ about what’s happening when you’re stuck on the couch in the student lounge for the night.”

Victor snorts a laugh – and then his noises change as another contraction takes over. Yuuri rubs his back and tries to breathe with him, and when it’s over, Yuuri strokes through his hair.

“I wish I’d known,” says Victor.

“Known what? That it was my first time? I don’t think there is anything on earth that would have convinced me to tell you that, Victor. Not in the moment, anyway.”

“Well, the virgin thing too, but I meant that you didn’t remember it. I thought, back in April—”

_Oh._

“You thought it wasn’t important to me?”

Victor nods. “Looking back, it makes sense, why you were so confused when I showed up.” He chuckles. “And you wouldn’t let me sleep with you, either.”

Yuuri snorts. “ _That’s_ easy. I was scared I’d start dreaming about you again, and then wake up and realize I’d actually started to seduce you in my sleep.”

Victor shifts again. “Dreams,” he says, and it’s so sad that Yuuri kisses him.

“How could my memories of that night be anything _but_ dreaming, Victor? They were out of context. But now that I know what happened before—”

“The pictures,” says Victor slowly.

Yuuri nods. “And the video. You gave me the context, Victor. I know what happened that night now. I might not remember it – but I know what happened, and none of it was your fault. And if what I thought was a dream really happened—"

“It did,” says Victor.

Yuuri smiles. “That mean’s Salchow’s _mine_ … and you’re mine, too. I can keep you. _Always_. You won’t leave me and take Salchow with you back to Russia.”

Victor’s hand tightens on Yuuri’s. For a moment Yuuri thinks it’s just emotion – but then the monitors start up again, and Victor’s breathing starts growing heavy.

Another contraction. When it’s over, Victor’s forehead is damp with sweat. “You… you think I’d take her away from you?”

Yuuri doesn’t want to meet Victor’s eyes. “You didn’t even want to tell me she was mine.”

“Yuuri—"

“I know I’m young, Victor – you probably look at me and think I’m just a kid myself—“

“I don’t think that,” says Victor.

“—but I want this. I want _you_ , and I want Salchow, and I want us to be a family together. And I know it’s your choice, what happens next – we didn’t bond, we haven’t promised each other anything, but…”

Yuuri looks up, and when he sees the unshed tears in Victor’s eyes, his breath catches. Yuuri’s voice is barely a whisper. “Please give me a chance, Victor. Please stay with me as long as you can.”

Victor blinks hard. “I would never, _ever_ take her away from you. She’s _yours_.”

Yuuri slumps in relief – and then they’re holding each other, exhausted and scared. Yuuri’s fingers grasp the fabric of Victor’s hospital gown so tightly he’s amazed they can even pull themselves apart. Yuuri knows he’s crying – he can’t _help_ it, all the worry that he’s been keeping bottled up all week coming out in a rush of relief.

And Victor – there’s more color in his cheeks than Yuuri’s seen all day.

“We’re a mess,” laughs Victor, and he cups Yuuri’s cheek. “And she’s not even here yet.”

“We have to decide on a name,” says Yuuri.

“We could take a poll online,” suggests Victor.

Yuuri laughs again. “I think we broke the internet enough for one day.”

The monitors begin to beep – and then Victor squeezing Yuuri’s hand tightly again.

“I think they’re coming closer now,” he manages to say even with his teeth clenched together.

Yuuri’s heart begins to pound. “You think—"

Victor grimaces again. “Maybe? Yes. I— _oh_.”

“Woah,” says Yuuri, scooting off the bed where it’s now wet with clear fluid. “Okay, that’s not good. Is that good? I have no idea. I’m getting the doctor.”

He turns to the door, ready to fly, all the exhaustion of the previous day gone in an instant.

“Yuuri,” says Victor, and Yuuri turns at the door.

“Victor?”

Victor’s eyes are bright. His hair is damp, sticking to his skin at the temples, and his hand rests on the baby they’re going to meet very soon.

Three words. Three words is all it takes to change everything.

_I’m your coach._

_Tell him later._

_Find your Eros._

_Tell him soon._

_Yuuri, I’m pregnant._

_Tell him now._

_Yuuri, it’s yours._

“I love you.”

Yuuri has never heard three words he wanted to hear more.

“I love you, too,” he says, and goes running down the hall so fast he thinks he could fly.


	8. Epilogue: Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 of Victuuri Week. Today's prompt is Valentine's Day. (Yes, we're going to do a time jump, Gentle Readers, but we're going to tie up some loose ends first.)
> 
> whichstiel has created [an amazing paper-art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364675) for the final scene in the story, which I'll also link to within. Please click, admire, and tell how how gorgeous it is!

The sky grows bright before the sun crests the horizon. The clouds reflect gold and orange, red and pink, changing with every breath. There’s a gentle breeze from the ocean blowing through the trees, and the waves lap lightly on the sand, a soft lullaby of sound.

Hasetsu is already beginning to stir when the sun finally rises. Down by the docks, fishermen unload their catches. The newsagent sets up her stand with the daily papers. Parents open their children’s doors, prodding them awake so they can get ready for school.

It’s a brand-new day, and the world is waking up.

Every light blazes in the last operating onsen in Hasetsu, where a brand-new grandmother is too excited to sleep. She’s cooking every dish that occurs to her, without rhyme or reason, and she’s already compiled a list of ingredients she needs to purchase in order to cook more.

A brand-new grandfather smiles so widely that he can barely see the paper he’s folding. It doesn’t matter; he’s folded several hundred already. He can do this without looking. He’ll fold several hundred more before he’s done.

In the little room in the hospital on the hill, it’s quiet. The excitement is over, the flurry of activity has long since ceased. The doctor has gone home, exhausted, and the nurses have gone back to work, smiles on their faces and contentment in their hearts. The curtains are drawn, the lights are low, and the only sound is soft breathing and the occasional muted beep from the monitors.

The three occupants of the room are sleeping now, curled around each other, the two men flanking the tiny bundle between them. They’ve had a hard night; it shows in the dark circles under their eyes, their deep breathing. The new fathers hold hands, resting on top of the sturdy bundle.

It’s morning in Hasetsu, and the world continues to turn. The children head to school; passing businessmen purchase their newspapers; fish are carted to the market.

The new family sleeps through it all. There’ll be time enough to enjoy the world when they wake up.

*

“Hello, Yakov!”

“Vitya? Why are you calling me at three in the morning?”

“Oh, is that the time in Saint Petersburg? I’m sorry, my schedule is very irregular right now. I wanted to tell you, Yuuri and I have talked about it and I’m going to come back to competitive skating.”

“ _What?!?!_ It’s September! It’s much too late to—"

“Oh, no, of course not _this_ year. _Next_ year. I have to wean the baby first.”

“…… ** _WHAT?!?!?!?!_** ”

*

“I am going to be the _favorite_ uncle,” announces Phichit over Skype. “Look, I already bought Salchow her first hamster!”

“Wow,” says Victor, staring at the computer screen, where a fuzzy creature chews on Phichit’s fingers as he holds him close to the camera. He glances nervously down at his day-old daughter, pressed close to his chest, eyes nearly closed with a bubble of milk on her lips. “You know we’re not actually going to name her Salchow, right?”

“Great! You can use it for the hamster instead.”

“Um, Phichit?” says Yuuri, a bit awkwardly. “She’s not even twenty-four hours old, I think she’s a little young for a hamster?”

“I know,” says Phichit. “Don’t worry, though! She’ll grow into it.”

*

There’s an unmarked package delivered to Yu-topia Katsuki the next day. Hiroko is about to open it when Mari yanks it from her, scolds her mother about safety and suspicious packages and crazy fans on the internet, and takes it out back so if it explodes, it won’t kill all of them.

“I think you’ve spent too much time cleaning Victor’s room, dear,” says Hiroko, amused, but comes to watch anyway.

There’s no note inside the box either. Instead, there’s a little baby outfit completely covered in tiger print, and the tiniest pair of knitted ice skates either woman has ever seen.

Mari holds up the gifts with a slightly perplexed look, but Hiroko begins to laugh.

“Oh, that boy!”

Mari realizes and grins, and they both chorus, “ _Yurio_!”

*

“But did you _tell_ him?” demands Chris. His voice is a bit tinny over the phone, and Victor knows the reception would be much better if he got out of the hospital bed and went to the window… but it’s very late, and the hospital is mostly asleep, and the baby sleeps curled up in his arms. He can’t get out of the bed unless he puts her down, and… he doesn’t want to put her down.

It’s not just that she might wake up. It’s that somehow, nine months of carrying her isn’t really enough.

“Yes, Chris, I told him,” says Victor patiently, his voice low. He glances at Yuuri, sprawled out on the lounge chair near the window. His mouth hangs open, and he looks exhausted. Three days in the hospital, and Victor’s ready to go _home_ , if for no other reason than to make sure Yuuri leaves too and gets a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.

“And he _still_ wants to stay with you?” says Chris mournfully, and Victor grins, because he can hear that Chris is joking.

Mostly.

“I don’t understand. I’m a very good pole dancer. I put my heart into our dance that night. I thought he and I had something special.”

“It’s a mystery,” agrees Victor cheerfully.

“You know I’m going to win gold this year, right, Victor? And it won’t mean anything, because I didn’t beat you, and I didn’t win Katsuki’s heart.”

“I think you’ll live. But you won’t win gold. We need teething rings for the baby.”

Chris’s laughter rings clear through the phone.

*

“I still think you could call her Salchow,” says Yuuko from where she’s holding the baby by the window. She leans down to touch noses with her. “You could be a Salchow – yes, you could, you sweet adorable thing you.”

“As if Axel, Lutz, and Loop are actually what’s on _their_ birth certificates,” says Yuuri, pointing at the triplets in turn. The triplets don’t answer; they’re too busy examining the monitors still hooked to Victor, or bouncing around the tiny hospital room, or gazing in awe at the tiny baby. The moments of silent awe don’t last very long.

“Those aren’t their names?” says Victor, surprised. Seeing his daughter in Yuuko’s arms is a lot _itchier_ than he anticipated. It’s not that he thinks Yuuko isn’t safe – of course she is, she clearly knows exactly how to hold a baby – but she’s not himself or Yuuri.

“It’s what we called them before they were born,” explains Takeshi. “It was more creative than One, Two, and Three.”

“We tried to use their real names after they were born,” says Yuuko. “It was just hard to break the habit.”

Takeshi leans toward Victor. “I think we might have mixed up Axel and Loop, to be honest.”

Victor laughs, and the baby starts to wake up – though whether it’s from hearing his laughter, or just because she’s hungry, it’s impossible to tell.

“Oh, I think my time’s up,” Yuuko says with a sigh as the baby’s whimpers become more audible. She carefully transfers the baby to Yuuri, who cradles her head as he settles her against his chest, so that her tiny nose is against his neck, where his scent is the strongest. She immediately calms, even though she’s still smacking her lips and wriggling a bit.

“I think she’s hungry?” says Yuuri, a bit doubtfully.

“As good a guess as any,” agrees Victor, already relieved that she’s coming back to him.

Yuuko tracks the baby across the room. “It’s so nice holding such a little baby – I’d forgotten.”

“I knew letting her hold a baby was a bad idea,” says Takeshi glumly. “Now she’s going to want another one.”

“You don’t want a boy?” asks Yuuri. He gives the baby a gentle kiss on her head as she settles in Victor’s arms.

There’s a crash from the other side of the room, and then a chorus of three girls shouting, “I DIDN’T DO IT.”

“Only if there’s a guarantee,” says Takeshi dryly.

*

v_nikiforov

[Picture]

Introducing Anna Yurievna Katsuki-Nikiforova (Russian) / Katsuki Nikiforova Aina (Japanese), born 7 days ago in Hasetsu, Japan.

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nikisbigstfan SHE’S SO CUTE

anim8shun Wait – since when was Victor pregnant?

nikiforprezz HAVE YOU BEEN SLEEPING THE LAST WEEK OR SOMETHING? He showed up pregnant at Katsuki’s regional championships!

anim8shun But… those names would imply that Katsuki is the father. Did they even MEET before the GPF last year?

fgrsktngismylife OMG SECRET BONDINGS.

fgrsk8er That’s my name! THAT’S MY NAME. OMG, Victor SAID MY NAME. Well not my name but SORT OF MY NAME, I’M TAKING IT.

notyrlinguist Interesting name choices. The name ANNA is found in nearly all Western countries, from the Biblical CHANAH, and means “beauty” or “grace.” The name AINA is a less common Japanese name for a girl, which can be broken down as “Ai” (love) and “na” (vegetables). Perhaps Nikiforov and Katsuki are loudly proclaiming their intention to become vegetarians?

evrthngbuttheice Or they just went through Russian and Japanese baby name books and picked the first ones they found that sound similar?

christophe_gc I think that’s exactly what they did, yes.

christophe_gc Victor, I don’t care how adorable your baby is, I’m winning gold this year and I’m not giving her the medals to use as teething rings.

evrthngbuttheice CHRISTOPHE REPLIED TO ME. OMG I’M GONNA DIE.

v_pupova Shut up all of you! She’s beautiful and we’re all very happy for Victor and Yuuri. Congratulations you two!

*

_Five months later_

“You sure you want to do this?” Mari asks Yuuri, as they watch Hiroko pack a diaper bag with ten changes of clothes.

“No,” admits Yuuri. “But it’ll be good practice for summer, when we move to Saint Petersburg. It’s not like we can take Mom with us.”

“I think she’d go,” says Mari, as Hiroko slides four spare bottles in a side pocket. “Assuming she forgives you for leaving at all.”

Yuuri groans. “I know, I know – but it’s the only way Victor’s going to be ready for competition next year. I can train anywhere, but he _has_ to train in Saint Petersburg with Yakov. And it’s only for a few months, while they solidify his programs.”

“You say that _now_ ,” says Mari. Hiroko returns to the room, her arms full of diapers. “I think she’s trying to pack Aina’s entire wardrobe, you know.”

“Mom!” groans Yuuri. “It’s only _three days_. And we’re not even leaving the country, if we forget something, we can always run out and buy another one!”

“So much easier to have it, though,” says Hiroko with a bright smile. “Are you going to take her bouncy chair? She likes the bouncy chair.”

“We are not taking the bouncy chair, she’ll be fine for three days without it.”

Hiroko shakes her head. “You should take the bouncy chair.”

Yuuri groans and holds his head.

“I’m kind of surprised you’re taking her at all,” says Mari as Hiroko heads back for more things, which hopefully do not include a bouncy chair. “I mean – it’s Valentine’s Day. I’d think you’d want the time alone with Victor.”

“I know – but Victor’s insisting that we bring her. We couldn’t take her to Beijing or Moscow or Barcelona because she was still so small, but she’s older now and the Four Continents are in Nagano, so this is much easier. He really wants Aina to see me skate in competition.”

Mari frowns. “Is that a good idea? Is she even _allowed_ by the ice?”’

Yuuri throws his hands up in the air. “When have you _ever_ known Victor to play by the rules?”

“Good point.”

Hiroko reappears with the entire diaper changing station.

“Mom!” yells Yuuri. “Seriously! We can use a _towel on the bed_! Put that back!”

*

“Skating for China, please welcome Cao Bin!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, and Victor checks that the sound-blocking headphones are still in place on his daughter’s head. The fact that he’s checked a few dozen times already in the last hour don’t seem to matter; it’ll be the one time he _doesn’t_ check that the headphones will slip. Especially since the five-month-old seems determined to bat them straight off her head.

“No, _solnyshko_ , leave them there, you won’t like the noise if you take them off,” cautions Victor, but Anya doesn’t listen to him. Like father, like daughter, Victor supposes with a wry grin.

It’s not as noisy backstage at the Four Continents Competition as it is up in the stands, but Victor’s not taking chances with his daughter’s hearing.

“Did you hear the announcement, Anya? That means Otousan is up soon,” Victor says to his daughter. He’s still not convinced that she can hear him through the headphones, but sometimes talking to Anya is the only Russian he speaks for days. He’s never been so happy to see the Kazakh and Uzbek skating teams in his life as he was the first day of competition. Yuuri had to drag him away when it was time to go back to the hotel.

Anya looks around when she hears the name they’re using for Yuuri, still chewing on her squeaky giraffe. Victor fusses with the bib that’s soaked with drool, and reaches into the baby bag for a new one. As much as he dislikes the bibs – they hide the pretty dresses everyone insists on buying for his daughter  – at least they mean he isn’t changing her outfit several times a day.

“There you are!” exclaimed Phichit Chulanont. “Hand her over, Victor! I’m done skating, I have my scores, and you _promised_.”

Victor straightens, clutching a bib, and smiles at Phichit. “Did you land your quads?”

“Yes! Gimme.” Phichit makes grabby motions with his fingers.

Victor hands over Anya, who bursts into a bright, mostly gummy smile.

“She has a _tooth_!” Phichit exclaims, rocking back and forth like an expert.

“I hear that happens sometimes,” says Victor, but he’s still bursting with pride.

“Selfie!” sings Phichit, and somehow manages to balance Anya with one arm so he can hold up his cell phone.

Victor is watching with an eagle eye when he feels the clap on his shoulder. “Your daughter is very good at motivating my student to perform his best,” says Celestino, amused. “He’s been working on his quad Sal for the last month.”

“It shows,” says Victor, eyes still firmly focused on Phichit and Anya, who seems determined to squeeze Phichit’s face into funny shapes. “I might even be nervous about competing against him next year.”

Celestino chuckles. “I doubt that.”

“You know you could have come back this year,” says Phichit, though it’s distorted by Anya’s hands giving him a fish mouth. “Yuuri said you were skating practically until the last minute.”

Victor makes a face. “ _Skating_ , yes. _Jumping_ , no.”

Jumping is just… strange, after childbirth. The first time Victor landed a single, he thought he’d punched through the ice, the impact on the ice felt so jarring. The first time he landed a double, he was surprised that his insides hadn’t fallen straight out.

He landed his first triple since Anya’s birth only a week before. It had felt… okay. He’s not entirely sure he’s going to have all the quads back in time for next year, but he’s going to try.

“I heard you’re going back to Russia to train?” Celestino asks while Phichit and Anya coo at each other.

“This summer,” says Victor. “Yakov’s been patient, but it’s hard to coach long-distance.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone back already.”

Victor grins. “You’ve never met Yuuri’s mother, have you? I’m still amazed she let us bring Anya to Nagano at all. We might have to smuggle Anya to Russia as it is.”

Celestino chuckles just as Anya starts shrieking with glee.

“Beh-beh-beh-beh-beh!”

“Oh, _no_ ,” groans Phichit as Anya wriggles in his arms, trying to reach for the skater who has just come around the corner. “I’m always the favorite uncle until _he_ shows up.”

Otabek Altin’s stormy expression doesn’t change a bit. He walks up to Phichit and holds out his arms just in time to catch Anya as she leans forward into them. The shrieks cease the minute he’s holding her securely against his chest.

“You’re not asking _him_ whether or not he landed his quads,” Phichit accuses Victor.

Victor shrugs. “He scares me more than you do. And I saw his program earlier.” There’s a burst of applause from the rink, and then the announcement about scores. “And that’s my cue. Otabek, can you watch Anya while I find Yuuri?”

“ _Da_ ,” says Otabek.

Victor leans over to kiss Anya’s head, and then winds his way to the corridor where he left Yuuri to run through his program.

Yuuri’s back is to him as he works his way down the hallway, going through his step sequences. Victor leans against the concrete wall and watches, a smile on his face.

Five months since Anya was born, since he and Yuuri made their promises to each other on a hospital bed, and Victor still can’t quite believe his luck. He isn’t sure why Yuuri’s forgiven him – Victor sometimes thinks he’ll never understand why – but he’s long since stopped questioning it.

Yuuri loves him, and he loves Yuuri, and they both adore Anya. That’s enough.

Yuuri turns at the end of the hall. Victor thinks he’s lost in his choreography until he sees the slight frown.

“Where’s Aina?” Yuuri’s voice is a little loud since he’s still wearing his earbuds, and his voice echoes in the hall. He doesn’t stop moving. Victor waits until he finishes his choreo and removes his earbuds before answering.

“With Otabek, Phichit, and Celestino. Bin just finished.”

Yuuri nods shortly, and stuffs his iPod into his pocket. “A hug for good luck first?”

Victor grins, moving toward him. “Of course!”

“Not from you,” laughs Yuuri, ducking under his arms. “From Aina.”

“I’ve been usurped by someone who can’t even sit up without pillows,” moans Victor, following Yuuri down the hall. “This is very unfair. I want to make a complaint.”

“She gives better hugs.”

“She doesn’t give hugs at all, she just accepts them.”

Otabek still has the unimpressed expression on his face when they arrive in the waiting lounge. It matches the slightly confused expression on Anya’s face perfectly as they watch Phichit dance around them, shaking toys in either hand, in an attempt to make her laugh.

Victor snorts and pulls out his phone, but Yuuri goes straight in. “Yuuri, you walked right into the picture!”

Anya bursts into a smile and lifts up her arms. Yuuri takes the baby and cuddles her for a moment.

“Why does _Yuuri_ get to break the no-baby-until-we’ve-skated rule?” complains Phichit.

“I’d think that would be obvious,” says Yuuri, amused. “But I probably shouldn’t. Remember what happened to J.J.?”

“It was spectacularly good timing, though,” says Victor. “And I don’t think any of the judges noticed the dried spit-up while he was skating.”

“ _Victor._ ”

“Oh, JJ was by here earlier,” offers Phichit.

“You should be very proud of Anya,” says Otabek. “She saw JJ and started blowing at him.”

“Blowing?” asks Yuuri.

Otabek blows a raspberry to demonstrate, and Phichit snickers – and takes a picture. Otabek stares at him until Phichit meekly puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Good girl,” says Victor to the baby. “Keep him on his toes.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Yuuri scolds Victor, and then gives Anya a kiss. He switches to Japanese. “You’re going to watch me, right, Aina? Keep your eyes on your otousan.”

“Do you think her first word will be in Russian or Japanese?” wonders Phichit.

“I think her first word is going to be Otabek’s name,” says Victor, a bit glum.

“Beh-beh-beh-beh-beh,” says Anya, as Victor takes her back.

Otabek doesn’t even crack a smile. “You’re taking her to the ice?”

“I promised her,” says Victor simply.

They pause just behind the curtains that separate the backstage area from the public space around the rink. The music playing in the auditorium is overwhelmingly peppy and almost annoying. Victor tries to adjust Anya’s headphones with one hand until Yuuri notices and helps him.

“They’re fine, stop fussing,” he says, and holds Victor’s hand on Anya’s back. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Her bib,” says Victor, eyes wide, and Yuuri pulls off the bib and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. “Is her hair okay?”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri assures him. “You changed her diaper, she’s got a pretty dress that’s also warm enough, she’s safe in her headphones, and she’s not due for a nap or a bottle in the next ten minutes.  And aren’t you supposed to be saying something coach-like right now to me?”

“Oh. Yes. Skate well.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

Victor leans closer to him. “Skate like you’re telling Anya a story.”

Yuuri smiles. “The story of how we met.”

Victor shakes his head. “No – the story of _after_ we met.”

Yuuri grins as he reaches up and catches Victor at the nape of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Anya, slightly squashed between them, starts to shriek and kick her legs.

“Maybe we should have had Otabek come with us,” says Yuuri, worried. “In case she really starts to fuss out there.”

“She’ll be fine,” Victor reassures him. “I promised her she’d see you skate.”

“I don’t think she’ll hold you to it,” says Yuuri, and then glances at the ice. “We better get out there.”

Victor nods, and they walk through the curtain.

Anya wriggles in his arms at the sudden brightness and noise, and she clutches at his coat. Yuuri heads straight for the entry area, where he unzips his warm-up jacket and leaves it on a nearby chair.

“Are you going to be okay carrying all this?” he asks Victor as he stretches out his thighs. Victor nods.

“We’ll be fine. I already see half a dozen people overly anxious to hold a baby.”

Yuuri snorts. “We rely entirely too much on everyone already.”

“Wait until we’re in Saint Petersburg,” says Victor, a little regretfully.

There’s a flourish of music – and then cheers from the crowd. Anya startles and starts to whimper, turning her face into Victor’s chest.

“Hey, now,” he soothes, and pats her back. “It’s okay. Papa’s here.”

Yuuri frowns. “I thought she wasn’t supposed to hear anything through those.”

“It dampens down the sound, it doesn’t make it disappear.” Victor starts rocking back and forth, making shushing noises as close to the headphones as he can. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

Yuuri glares at him. “ _Now_ that occurs to you?”

“Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Kastuki, is there a problem?” asks an official, coming forward.

“No, we’re fine,” says Victor firmly, before returning to shushing.

“Could you do us a favor and find Otabek Altin or Phichit Chulanont?” asks Yuuri. “If they could just be ready to take Anya back, if she doesn’t calm down?”

“Absolutely,” says the woman, and rushes off.

“I promised her,” repeats Victor.

“And I don’t want to worry about either of you while I’m out there,” says Yuuri. “Look, she’s calming down already. It’ll be fine, but I’ll feel better knowing they can take her if she needs to go. She’s going to have her whole life to watch me skate, Victor. It’s okay if it doesn’t happen today.”

Victor sighs, looking down at Anya, who’s no longer whimpering, but still has her head tucked under his chin. “Okay.”

Victor watches from the sides as Yuuri skates out onto the ice. He sees the official return with a smile and thumbs up – clearly she’s found at least one of the two other skaters, who likely wait behind the curtain.

“Now introducing, skating for Japan—"

Victor turns back to the ice – but instead of doing the customary greeting to the crowd, Yuuri’s gone straight to center ice. He turns in a circle on his skates, one finger in front of his lips – exactly as if he’s asking the crowd to be quiet.

“—please welcome Katsuki Yuuri!” finishes the announcer.

Yuuri’s already completing a second turn, this time with his palms pressed together, next to his cheek.

As if he’s demonstrating that someone is asleep.

There’s a few laughs from the crowd, and a few scattered bits of polite applause, but apart from those, and the soft wave of a large group of people telling each other to hush, it’s quiet.

Victor is so surprised he starts to laugh, and notices the other people around him grinning and chuckling too.

“Your otousan is a genius,” he whispers to Anya as Yuuri takes his opening pose.

The music begins.

Someday, thinks Victor, they’ll look at the pictures taken that day and laugh at how ridiculous they were to even try bringing a baby to a figure skating competition. Especially over Valentine’s Day, when they really should have been enjoying a hotel room together, just the two of them.

But Victor’s had three more hotels rooms alone with Yuuri since the first over a year ago in Sochi, and while they’ve enjoyed all of them in turn… there’s one small detail Victor always misses, and she’s in his arms right now, watching her father on the ice.

Victor doesn’t need a day alone with Yuuri to prove that he loves him. He proves that every single day already.

No, this is a much better gift, and the best part is it won’t be just Victor giving it. It’ll be the whole world, taking pictures from every angle of Yuuri and Victor and Anya, the first time Anya sees her father skate a story just for her.

It’ll be worth all the trouble, when they see the pictures where Anya grins as Yuuri lands a jump just across the boards from where she watches. The pictures where she stares at the ice, her small perfect mouth open, headphones nearly as big as herself on her head. There will undoubtedly be one picture where Victor makes a silly face as he points Yuuri out, as he turns so that everyone can admire Anya’s soft black hair and blue eyes properly.

And then there will be the picture that Victor knows he’ll love the best. [The picture he’s been thinking about from the minute Yuuri changed his final pose back in September at the regional championships.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364675)

Yuuri, on the ice, gesturing to Victor – and now Anya – on the sides.

Victor smiles as brightly as he can, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling. Anya babbles a little bit, wriggling and reaching out for Yuuri in response, and Victor laughs as he struggles to keep the little girl from tumbling.

Flashes from every direction.

They’re going to break the internet again.

Victor can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, friends. _Oh. My. Goodness._ A week ago, I sat at my computer, staring at the chapter I'd written that afternoon which I only belatedly realized matched a prompt for Day One of Victuuri week. There was an hour left to Day One. Posting it was a matter or now or never.
> 
> I decided to post it. I am so, so, _so_ glad I did. I've mentioned in a few comments, this isn't my typical method of writing - I tend to write the entire story and then post after time and beta readers - but writing day by day, being able to hear your thoughts and even incorporate them into the story as I was writing, and posting almost immediately... wow. I never understood how some writers could do that, but now I know. Every comment, every kudos gave me such adrenaline and such drive to write more, in a way that I've never experienced before. When I say that I could not have written _this_ story, _this_ way, without you, I am not exaggerating. This was the most amazing and unique experience I've had writing in a very long time, and I have each and every one of you to thank for it. 
> 
> From the absolute bottom of my heart, _thank you_ , for your support, your encouragement, your ideas and thoughts and suggestions. 
> 
> One last thing: many of you left so many good ideas in your comments, I ended up expanding on several of them. (And many of you wondered about the same scenarios or possibilities.) Since it's kind of hard to scan through comments, I've gathered up the bits of expanded dialog and [posted them on my Tumblr here](http://azriona.tumblr.com/post/157244120498/bonus-dialogs-from-those-three-words). Feel free to laugh and have a giggle. There are also [additional headcanons about how Yuuri told his parents that Salchow was his baby here](http://azriona.tumblr.com/post/167182912893/hello-i-love-those-three-words-and-i-dont-even).
> 
>  **Edited to add:** Because you guys kept inspiring me in the comments.... [I've posted some Those Three Words headcanons on my tumblr](http://azriona.tumblr.com/post/157390525528/those-three-words-headcanons), for what happens to our little family in the next few years. Enjoy!
> 
> I'm sure I'm forgetting a million things I want to say. Hey, it's late, and look at that - one hour left to Day 8 in my part of the world. Somehow, that's fitting. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day to all of you. ::blows you a kiss::


End file.
